


Cordefic

by Corde (chickwithmonkey)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Other, Self-insertion, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickwithmonkey/pseuds/Corde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several pieces of rambling sillyfic written for the Farscape Shippers' List in 2000 or so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Importance of Being Calvins

Prologue

Once upon a time there was young boy named Crichton. He grew up with his dad and his best friend DK, who was rather hot. Crichton himself wasn’t too hard on the eyes, but we’ll get to that later. Anyway, Crichton’s dad was an astronaut, and so Crichton wanted to be one too. So he and DK built a really neat little shuttle they called Farscape 1. Then Crichton went out to fly Farscape 1, and accidentally got hit by some solar flares and tossed into a wormhole, or something like that. On his way out the other end of the wormhole, he crashed into another ship, and killed the driver. Don’t drink and fly shuttles, kids; bad things happen when you do. So the brother of the man who Crichton killed, Captain Crais, picked Crichton up and was all ready to kill him, when suddenly the amazing Aeryn Sun came to his rescue! She burst in, plasma rifles blazing, and carried him off to her spaceship, where he met her cool friends, D’Argo and Zhaan. Oh yeah, and Rygel was there too. So they went gallivanting around the galaxy, doing good deeds and running away from Crais, who still thought he was the prettiest PK around.

Chapter 1  
Crichton was in the mess hall one day, sadly gnawing on his food cubes, when he felt the ship move in an odd fashion. “Pilot,” he called, “is it me, or did the ship just move in an odd fashion?”

“It’s just you,” Pilot replied. But Crichton didn’t believe him, and went off in search of his friend D’Argo.

He found D’Argo in the corridor outside Seattle (Seattle? Where did that come from?), er, Command, staring at a DRD and muttering obscenities that Crichton’s translator microbes didn’t want to deal with. “D’Argo,” Crichton asked, “Did you just feel the ship move in an odd fashion?”

“NO!” D’Argo snarled in what seemed to the human to be a very impolite manner. Crichton decided to leave the luxan alone with his new mechanical friend, and beat a hasty retreat.

Crichton went into Command to find another of his friends, Rygel. The hynerian was floating in his chair and studying the control panel with great scrutiny. Crichton thought maybe Rygel would know what was going on, “Hey Rygel,” Crichton asked, “did you just feel the ship move in an odd fashion?”

“I care not for your petty concerns,” replied the Dominar with a sniff. “I am much too busy and important to waste my time on your little problems. Now go away.”

“That answers that question, thank you,” grumbled Crichton as he wandered away. He moved down the corridor in search of his other friend, Zhaan.

After a lengthy search, he finally found Zhaan in her quarters. “Zhaan, did you…” he began, before he realized his blue companion was meditating. As usual for the delvian, she meditated sans clothing. “I’ll come back later,” Crichton mumbled, scampering away.

He finally came upon his hero Aeryn in the cargo bay. She was tinkering with her Prowler, and didn’t hear him come in. As a result, Crichton was well on his way to invading her personal space by the time she noticed he was there. “Aeryn,” he murmured seductively, “have you noticed…” but that was as far as he got before she elbowed him in the ribs.

“You’re in my way again, Crichton,” she growled warningly.

“Right! Sorry,” he backed off. “But really, have you noticed the ship move in an odd fashion recently?”

Aeryn looked at him quizzically. “Is this another Erp saying? Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crichton sighed. It just wasn’t his day. “I guess I’ll go back to Seattle, er, Command for a while,” he mumbled. Seattle? Where did that come from? 

But he never made it to Seattle, er, Command, because all of a sudden Pilot came over the com and announced, “Emergency! There is a Peacekeeper vessel approaching! We cannot starburst away in time. We will be boarded.”

Crichton briefly considered becoming a delvian priest, because then maybe he could get away from those frelling Peacekeepers for good, but decided against it because he didn’t want to be blue. He dashed to the cargo bay to find Aeryn, in hopes that she would once again have a plan to save him. She did. “Crichton, run!” she yelled, hoping that for once his inferior human brain would process the command. Crichton ran. 

Unfortunately for him, but not surprising to the rest of the universe, he ran the wrong way. Right into Crais and his PK henchmen. “Oh ho ho,” chortled Crais, “thar she blows!”

Crais’ men looked at him. “Who? What? Where?” they asked confusedly.

“Nevermind,” hurried Crais, “I am the prettiest PK captain around, and I order you to arrest that man! Buwahahaha!” Glad to finally understand something their captain was saying, the henchmen complied. Crichton, being the almost total wuss that he is, didn’t put up a fight. Instead he just kinda stood there, looking cute and rescue-worthy. Hoping that Aeryn would come along and save him.

Which, of course, she did. She dashed around the corner, plasma rifles blazing once again, just as Crais was about to perform Peacekeeper Tickle Torture on Crichton. “Aww, Aeryn, did ya have to get here so fast?” muttered Crichton. Then he looked up to see everyone staring at him with looks of disgust. “I mean, yay! My hero!” Aeryn just shook her head and sighed.

Crais turned his attention back to Aeryn. “You won’t have him THIS time, Sun! Buwahahah!” He turned to his henchmen. “Who’s the prettiest PK captain around?”

His henchmen, recognizing their cue, all chanted, “It’s you! It’s you!”

“That’s right!” Crais agreed. “It’s me! It’s me!” and he did a little Pretty Dance right there in the corridor.

Aeryn was at once disgusted and fascinated. She shook her head and said, “No! I won’t let you have him! He may be a wuss and idiot most of the time, but he’s way too cute to let you have him! Besides,” she continued in a reasonable tone, “if you take him, where am I gonna get more Calvins to sleep in?”

“You have a point,” Crais agreed grudgingly. “Very well. I’ll let you have him THIS time… but I’ll need a darn good excuse next time, or he’s MINE! BUWAHAHAHA!” And Crais swept down the corridor in his imaginary cape, his henchmen marching behind him singing “The Crais Song” (which is a rather bad song, actually. Crais made it up himself. The words are mostly, “Who’s pretty? Me!” repeated over and over, and the melody just isn’t good at all).

“Aeryn!” yelled Crichton. “You saved me! Again!” and tried to throw himself into her arms. But Aeryn stepped back and let him fall to the floor in an ungraceful heap. 

“Yeah, well, I really like stealing your clothes,” she explained. Then she wandered off down the corridor to clean her plasma rifles.

What a day! Crichton thought as he made his way back to Seattle, er, Command. First that weird movement, then Crais came and left and I didn’t even get hurt! I wonder what tomorrow will bring…

The End

Chapter 2  
“What?!?” yelled Aeryn. “What chapter 2? There is no chapter 2! We finished the story in the first chapter!”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” said Corde.

“Wait a minute, what about that weird movement?” wondered Crichton.

“Um, that was just you being stupid, jackass,” said the author. “Hey, can I say that?”

“Yeah,” confirmed Aeryn, “it’s PG-13.”

“Good,” said Corde. “Crichton, you’re a jackass.” She looked at Aeryn and grinned. On cue, they both shouted, “But we love you anyway!” and jumped on him.

The End.


	2. Her Award-Winning Farscape story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original story note: I humbly beg your forgiveness for this. It was supposed to be a real fic, well, real sillyfic, but really, and it turned into a rip-off of Mike Resnick’s “His Award-Winning Science Fiction Story.” It didn’t start out that way. And I didn’t think of the title until I was writing chapter 22, so it’s not like I meant for it to be this way. Please, if anyone has read that story, don’t be mad at me. And if you haven’t, this won’t make sense. And now that I got all the weirdness out, I can write my REAL sillyfic, one with Crais and love letters and all that jazz. The only reason I’m posting is that the voices are making me.

Chapter 1

“Is there going to be a chapter 2?” Aeryn asked snippily. “Hey!” she yelled indignantly, “that wasn’t snippy. It was just a question. Since there was no chapter 2 last time, there shouldn’t be a chapter 1 if there is no chapter 2.”

“She’s right,” agreed Crichton.

“Shut up,” said Corde. “I swear, you are the worst characters…”

“And we’re not even yours,” Chia Pet said smarmily. “And don’t call me Chia Pet!”

“My fic, I call you what I want,” replied Corde smugly.

“And do I get any lines this time?” asked Zhaan. “Hey look, I do!”

D’Argo growled. 

“Will all of you just leave me alone for a few minutes so I can write this frelling fic?” Corde screamed in frustration. “What is the MATTER with you PEOPLE?”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Crichton muttered plaintively.

“NOT ANYMORE!” yelled Corde. “Gentle readers, I apologize for the delay. The fic will begin shortly.”

Chapter 1

“Are you sure?” asked Aeryn. 

Corde throws down her quill and parchment and stomps away yelling curses in Klingon. D’Argo watches her leave. “Whoa,” he remarks, “mouth like a sailor…”

Chapter 7

“Okay, is anyone else having Resnick flashbacks?” asked Chia Pet.

“Not until Loni Anderson shows up,” said Zhaan. “Or the gardener.”

“I thought the gardener wasn’t in that one,” said Aeryn.

“He wasn’t,” said Zhaan.

“What’s going on?” asked Pilot.

“Corde just ripped off an entire Resnick story, and it isn’t even as good as the original,” answered Moya.

“Does that mean we all get to do it with Loni Anderson?” Pilot asked eagerly.

“Who’s Loni Anderson?” wondered Chia Pet.

“Before your time, dear,” answered Zhaan. “Before Corde’s too, but she read Resnick.

Chapter 22

Call me Ishmael.

Chapter 23

It was not born; it was made. It came out of the darkness. It had no home…

“Oh wow, now an attempt at a direct quote falls flat on its face. And it wasn’t even that funny the first time. Give it up, Corde,” advised Aeryn.

“You wanted Resnick, I’m trying to give you Resnick. Sorry, I don’t have the book right here in front of me…” grumbled Corde.

“Hiya!” chirped Loni Anderson.

Zhaan punched Loni Anderson, who went down for the count.

“Thank you!” said Moya.

“Corde, honey, where are you?” asked Bongo, Corde’s muse.

“Hiding,” said Corde.

“What are you doing? This fic sucks,” said Bongo.

“Tell me about it. It was supposed to be really good, but it didn’t work, and now I’m kinda stuck in it…” Corde began to whimper.

“Don’t worry, I can fix it,” said Bongo reassuringly.

THE END

“You call that a fix?” demanded Aeryn.

“No, I call it an end. So now Corde can stop this nonsense and write the fic she wants to,” replied Bongo testily.

“Fine,” grumbled Aeryn. “Sheesh, this entire story just bites. Even the title is ripped off Resnick. I really hope the Shippers have read Resnick, or else they’re gonna kick you right off the list.”

Corde burst into tears.

THE END


	3. The Obligatory Farscape/Star Trek Crossover

Prologue  
Yes, children, I have to have a prologue, once upon a time and all that, because if I don’t then someone might poke an eye out with a keyboard or something and sue me. So once upon a time there was a boy named Crichton, and he flew a little shuttle (that sorta looked like a dead cow) called Farscape 1. Then one day he found himself far from home (no, I still don’t know how, I haven’t seen the premier yet) and in big trouble. But the amazing Aeryn Sun came to his rescue (then and about a billion times since then, is anyone surprised?), and saved his hide, because he’s cute. However, in doing so, noble Aeryn put herself in danger, and she was trapped on a really big ship (which just happened to be alive) with a bunch of other people, and they were all lost in the Uncharted Territories (which was kind of a good thing, because Crichton had made an enemy). So there was D’Argo, and Zhaan, and Rygel, and Chia Pet, and Pilot, and Moya. And a bunch of DRDs.

Chapter 1

It was a normal day on Moya. Aeryn and Crichton were tinkering with their respective ships in the cargo bay, trying not to act like they were flirting with each other. Zhaan was naked. D’Argo was moody. Chia Pet was annoying. Rygel was eating. Just a typical day.

Then someone blinked into existence on the Terrace. A tallish man, with rumpled brown hair and a red and black suit. His name was a letter. The letter P! (dun dun dun)

No wait, I’m wrong, it was…

The letter Q! (dun dun dun)

He smiled. Then things began to get interesting.

Zhaan and Crichton were listening to D’Argo jam on his neat purple instrument. Crichton kept thinking he had heard the tune before, but didn’t say anything until D’Argo started singing, “Well I try and try to forget you, girl, but it’s just so hard to do, and I can’t take you doin’ that thing you do…” Zhaan screamed and ran.

Aeryn was trying to look up star charts in Seattle, er, Command (oh don’t start that again) when she came across an odd message. “My love is like a red red rose…” it began. Aeryn looked in shock at the address line of the message. To Moya from Pilot! Aeryn shook her head and deleted it quickly.

Crichton was wandering the ship aimlessly (well actually he was looking for Aeryn, but he would never admit it) when he passed Rygel’s quarters. The hynerian was hovering in his little chair in front of the mirror, saying, “Who’s the prettiest Dominar around? It’s me! It’s me! BUWAHAHA!” Crichton’s eyes widened and he walked quickly past.

Pilot’s voice came over the comm. “Peacekeeper ship approaching. It’s too close. We won’t be able to starburst away. Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry.

“Frell,” grumbled Aeryn, “that’s the fourth time this weekan.”

Crais and his henchmen came sweeping down the corridor. Aeryn prepared herself to fight, glad that at least Crichton wasn’t hanging around to get in trouble. But Crais surprised her. He went down on one knee in front of her, and looked up at her angelically as his henchmen turned on a tape player and began to sing. “He loves you yeah, yeah, yeah, he loves you yeah, yeah, yeah,” Aeryn screamed and ran.

While she was screaming and running, she passed Zhaan, who was screaming and running the other way. They stopped and caught their breaths. “D’Argo… singing…” Zhaan panted.

“Crais… singing…” Aeryn panted. They looked at each other in horror and began running again.

Aeryn ran to the cargo bay, where she thought she’d be safe. Nope. Crichton was there. He began to hover. “Hey Aeryn. How ya doin’? Can I polish your pulse rifle for ya? Shine your boots? Wash your PK uniform? Press your civvies? Brush your hair? Get you a pair of Calvins? Huh? Huh? Can I?” Aeryn sighed, glad he wasn’t trying to sing. Then she punched him out and started running again.

Right into Crais. “My dear,” he said very seriously, “If the nightingales sang as sweet as you, they’d sing much sweeter than they do…” Aeryn punched him out and ran.

She passed D’Argo chasing Zhaan, still singing. “Thank heaven… for little girls… for little girls get bigger every day… thank heaven… for little girls… they grow up in the most delightful ways…” He seemed to have a very strange accent… Zhaan stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“I’ve had enough!” She yelled. Then she began to sing. “These boots are made for walkin’, and that’s just what they’ll do! And one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you!”

D’Argo pouted. “Stop, in the name of love! Before you break my heart, think I o-o-ver… think it o-o-ver…”

Zhaan shook her head. “The best things in life are free, but that don’t mean a think to me, I want money. That’s what I want.” Aeryn shook her head and kept running.

Aeryn ran to the Terrace. She saw the man, who just happened to be standing there, and walked up to him and punched him. He went down for the count. She stood on his chest until he came to. “Hey,” he wheezed when he regained consciousness, “You can’t do that, I’m Q!” 

“I don’t care if you’re A E I O U and sometimes Y, stop whatever it is you’re doing RIGHT NOW. Gods! I’m so sick of all this bad singing! And what’s up with the love letters?”

The man under her boots began to whine, “Aww, I was just having a little fun. Hormones and all. You know…”

Aeryn stared at him. “Then why didn’t it affect me?”

The man blinked. “Because you’re Aeryn,” he said as if that explained everything (which it did).

“Oh yeah. I forget sometimes. Now cut it out.”

The man glowered at her. “Fine.” He waved his hand. Everything was back to normal.

“Good,” Aeryn said, getting off his chest. “Now if I ever see you on Moya again, I’ll kick your butt. Got it?”

“Yeah,” the man muttered as he blinked out of existence.

With that settled, Aeryn walked back to Command to finish looking up those pesky star charts. On the way, she saw Crais wandering around singing “The Crais Song,” but decided to ignore him. With luck, maybe he’d trip over Crichton.

THE END

Chapter 2

“Wow,” said Aeryn, “even that Resnick rip-off was better than this dren.”

“Thank you so very much,” Corde replied sarcastically.

“Why can’t you write another one like the first one? It wasn’t too bad,” said Aeryn.

“The style wasn’t too bad,” agreed Corde. “The language was atrocious. If my English teacher ever saw me use the phrase “in an odd fashion,” she’d skin me alive.”

“I thought that was the point,” said Aeryn with a raised eyebrow.

“It was. But it was still atrocious.”

“Better than this one.”

“You have a point. Let’s ask the Shippers if they can help. Shippers? Wanna give me a hand on this?” Corde asked the list in general.

“I can fix it,” said Anthony (who was really Bongo pretending to be Anthony, shh, don’t tell).

“Really? Please do,” said Aeryn.

THE END

“You call that a fix?” asked Aeryn.

“No, I call it an end,” said Anthony.

“That’s the lousiest…

THE END


	4. A Late Night Conversation with a Fictional Character when the Author is Afraid to Go to Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original summary: The first two chapters could have been parts of longer stories, but my muse gave me those thoughts and left. So instead of keeping them to incorporate into later work (that would be the smart thing to do, but who ever said I was smart?) I glommed them together now and chatted with Aeryn for a bit. I did see “The Sixth Sense” tonight, against my will, and I left halfway through because I was so scared. People, if you know you don’t want to see a movie, don’t waste your money on it. I need to get better friends.

Chapter 1

Aeryn Sun stomped into Crichton’s quarters aboard Moya. “And another thing,” she yelled, although there had been no first thing, “you human are weak! Weak, weak, weak! You THINK about everything, analyze it, have FEELINGS about it. Why can’t you just do what you want to do without THINKING?”

“What the FRELL are you talking about, Aeryn?” Crichton shouted back. “I am so SICK and TIRED of you coming in here and telling me yet another reason I am inferior! Why can’t you just accept that humans and sebaceans are different and LEAVE IT AT THAT?”

“BECAUSE YOU…”

Corde wandered in, cutting Aeryn off in mid-sentence. “Hey guys,” she said, a bit too casually. “Say, Crichton, you wouldn’t happen to have a letter opener or nail file around here, would you?” Crichton shook his head as Aeryn glared at the interruption.

“Nope, sorry,” replied Crichton, as Corde’s expression grew disappointed.

“Would my small dagger be suitable?” Aeryn asked icily.

Corde brightened. “Perfect! Thanks,” she said, reaching for the sharp object and beginning to wander out again. “I’ll bring it back in a jiffy…”

Aeryn and Crichton shared a wry look, then Aeryn sighed and asked, “What do you need it for?” as if she didn’t really want to know.

“Chiana just stapled Rygel to my wall,” Corde responded nonchalantly, “by his earbrows. I gotta get him off before my parents get home. You two crazy kids have fun. And Crichton, if you find any of my Scotch tape lying around, don’t let Chia Pet have it, okay?”

Chapter 2

It was a quiet day in the basement of the FBI office. Special Agents Mulder and Scully were filling out the endless paperwork often required by their superiors. Well, Scully was filling it out; Mulder was flipping pencils at the ceiling. The phone rang.

Mulder snatched it up and snapped, “Mulder.” Scully rolled her eyes without looking up from her work. Mulder was silent, listening to the voice on the other end for a long time, his eyes getting wider every second. Slowly, he covered the receiver with his hand. “Scully,” he said hoarsely, “you’re not gonna believe this. I’ve got a guy here… name’s John Crichton…”

Chapter 3

“Hey, congratulations, Corde,” remarked Aeryn. “That’s the first time you’ve had a Chapter 2 that actually made sense. And we got all the way to chapter three this time!”

“Shut up,” growled Corde, sounding not unlike D’Argo in “The Flax.”

“Oh, so now I get a line, is that it? I must say, Corde, I am not entirely pleased with my roles in your previous fic,” grumbled D’Argo.

“Oh pipe down,” said Chia Pet. “Hey! I told you not to call me that!”

“All of you, be quiet!” shouted Corde, who had just seen “The Sixth Sense” and was still scared of the dark.

“Wuss,” muttered Aeryn.

“Yes, and I’ll thank you not to forget it,” snapped Corde. “I TOLD my friends I didn’t want to see it, but did they listen? Noo…”

“Some friends you got there,” observed Aeryn.

“Yeah, with friends like that, who needs Peacekeepers?” asked Zhaan, who was determined to have a line in this fic as well.

“Wait a minute, Corde. All wussiness aside, you can’t let your wimpy fears get in the way of characterization. Zhaan would never say a thing like that,” Aeryn lectured.

Corde sighed. “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want Crichton to think he could say things like that, and I really don’t feel like cleaning up the blood when you beat the dren out of him.”

Aeryn considered that. “You have a point. Still, Chia Pet or Rygel could have said it, and it would have been in character.”

Corde scowled. “I don’t like them. I don’t want them in my fic.”

“Don’t pout,” Aeryn admonished. “You look like a child.”

“I AM a child! And I don’t like scary movies,” Corde said sulkily.

Chapter 4

BOO!

Chapter 5

“That wasn’t nice, Crichton. Now you’re just mocking me,” Corde glowered at him.

Aeryn smacked Crichton upside the head. “Go clean the Prowler. With your washcloth. And I wanna be able to see my face in it, got me?” she ordered.

Crichton whimpered. “Yes, Aeryn,” he said obsequiously, and trotted off. Aeryn turned back to Corde, who was still pouting over the scary movie she saw.

“Now Corde,” she said as though she were speaking to a young child, “There are no such things as ghosts. And even if there were, you couldn’t see them. And if you could, they couldn’t touch you.”

“Are you sure? Because in the movie they touched the little boy. They gave him scratches…”

“I’m sure. Because I wouldn’t let them. Now turn the computer off and go to sleep.”

“Thanks, Aeryn. But I have to finish this first.”

“Then finish it.”

“Okay.”

THE END 

Chapter 6

“I thought you finished it,” Aeryn reminded Corde.

“I did. But I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m still scared. Let’s talk about something. Is this what they call a “Mary Sue” story?”

Aeryn muttered unintelligible curses under her breath. “Let me put it this way, do you really care?”

“No.”

“Good. Then go to bed.”

THE END


	5. Further Adventures of a Total Wuss Who Talks to Fictional Characters Because She Is Still Afraid to Turn the Lights Off, Special Appearances by Jaimie and Tinka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really couldn’t tell you where this came from. It’s Bongo’s fault. He’s one sick little monkey, so he forces me to write weird stuff. I don’t think this can even be called sillyfic, I think it’s badfic. Baaaaaaaadfic. Bad muse. I need a new one. Okay, so I wrote it, and I’m posting it, but you don’t have to read it, and I take no responsibility for anyone who is not amused by it.

Chapter 1

Silence.

Crickets chirping.

Tumbleweed rolling.

“Now wait a minute,” said Crichton, “we’re in space. Where would we get tumbleweed?”

“I dunno,” said Corde, “I was just trying to illustrate how quiet my muse is tonight.”

“Who, Bongo? Where is the little bugger anyway?” asked Aeryn.

“I think I saw him wandering off with Chia Pet,” Zhaan put in.

“Don’t CALL me that!” came Chiana’s voice from somewhere else. “Thank you!”

Everyone took a minute to think about the combination of Bongo and Chiana, and shuddered.

“Well drat, what am I going to write about tonight?” complained Corde.

“What is it with you and writing all of a sudden?” asked Aeryn. “We were perfectly fine, then you had to come along and be all weird.”

“Um, well, I still can’t sleep. That scary movie… I had to leave all the lights on in my room last night,” admitted Corde.

“Kitty,” muttered Aeryn disgustedly.

“What?” Corde asked.

“I think she meant p…” Crichton started helpfully.

Corde interrupted before he could do serious damage to the PG rating of the fic. “Look, a living ship!” she shouted, pointing at the wall. While everyone turned to look, she reached over and pinched a tiny bit of skin on Crichton’s arm. Hard.

“OW!” Crichton screamed, sounding rather like a girl.

“John!” Aeryn snapped. “Go mop the cargo bay. With your washcloth. And I want to be able to see my face in the floor!”

“Yes, Aeryn,” said John, and he slunk away.

“Now Corde, we were discussing your writing…” Aeryn began. “Do you really expect us to believe that you are THAT much of a wuss?”

“Yes,” said Corde.

“Well we don’t,” said Zhaan. “No one is THAT wussy.”

“I am,” Corde insisted. “Ask my friends, they’ll tell you.”

Jaimie and Tinka walked into the room. Tinka screamed and started hitting Corde. “NO! This is a Farscape fic! I can’t believe you put me in a Farscape fic!”

“She’s a Xenite,” Corde explained, trying to duck. “She doesn’t approve of my other obsessions.

Jaimie looked around in awe. “What is this, Star Wars or something? ‘Luuuke, I am your faaaaather!’” She looked at Zhaan. “Wow. You’re, um, very blue.” D’Argo choked on a laugh. Zhaan couldn’t decide who to glare at, so she settled on Corde.

“Farscape, Jaimie. Don’t worry about it. Now I need you two to focus for a minute. These guys are going to ask you some questions, and you need to answer truthfully. Can you do that?” she asked Jaimie pointedly.

“Hey, I’m not the one who told my parents I was going to a movie and went to that frat party…” retorted Jaimie.

Corde snorted. “I’m not either. That was Andrea.”

“Oh yeah.” Jaimie shrugged. “Sure, okay. Ask away, weirdos.” D’Argo tried to decide if he wanted to take offense at that, but determined it wasn’t worth it.

Aeryn took charge. “So, Jaimie, is it? How long have you known Corde?”

“Um, is this a trick question?” Corde glared at her. “Okay, okay. Um, I’ve known her for about eight years, but I didn’t actually talk to her until a few years ago. We have just become really good friends these past few months,” said Jaimie.

“In your opinion, would you say she is a wuss?” asked D’Argo.

“Oh yeah,” said Jaimie, “big time. We took her to see this movie last night…”

“We know,” chorused Aeryn, D’Argo and Zhaan.

D’Argo turned to Tinka, who was lying on the floor with her eyes shut and her hands over her ears. “Do we want to try this one?” he asked, nudging her with his booted toe.

“Hey,” said Corde, eyeing his foot warily, “go easy on my friends. I don’t have that many.”

Jaimie walked over to Tinka and smacked her on the back. “Hey goober. Let’s get going. I have to pick up Steve in fifteen minutes.” Tinka got up from the floor, still with her eyes closed and hands over her ears, and the two girls walked out.

Corde turned to Aeryn. “There, you see? Even my friends say I’m a wuss. You want me to get my brother in here, or would you rather not see me bleed?”

D’Argo started to nod, but Zhaan punched him in the arm. “No bleeding, please. Crichton’s not done mopping the cargo bay.”

Aeryn sighed. “Well, I guess you really are a wuss, Corde. Sorry I doubted you.”

Corde shrugged. “’Sokay. I’m used to it.” 

“So we went through a page and a half to determine that Corde is a wuss? That was pointless,” Pilot remarked.

“Hey, who asked you?” retorted Corde. “Yes, of course it was pointless. But it gave me something to write about. Which kept me from going to bed. Which is what I was trying to do. So it wasn’t completely pointless.”

Aeryn rolled her eyes. “This fic sucks.”

“I know,” said Corde. 

Aeryn punched her out. 

THE END

Chapter 2

“No,” said Aeryn. “No chapter 2.”

THE END

Chapter 3

Jaimie, Tinka and Corde were in Jaimie’s car, driving home from dropping off Steve. Corde was in the back.

“So do you think I should go out with him?” asked Jaimie.

“Go out with who?” asked Corde.

“Definitely,” said Tinka. “He’s so nice.”

“Who’s nice?” asked Corde.

“Yeah, and really cute,” giggled Jaimie.

“Who’s cute?” asked Corde.

“Do you hear something?” Tinka asked Jaimie.

“Nah,” said Jaimie, and she turned up the radio.

THE END


	6. Waxing Philosophical With Fictional Characters Whilst Being Bored To Tears In An Adult Basic Education Class Which Is Full Of Adults And Entirely Too Basic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this is really part of my life. I’m skipping two years of high school, getting my GED, and going to college as a 17 year old. I was in class today, minding my own business, not paying attention, and Aeryn started to talk to me. I have to be in the frelling class for a total of 12 hours, which doesn’t seem like much but is forever when it’s 3 hours at a time. I have had to take three tests just to qualify for the GED test, and I haven’t missed an answer yet. I’m working on the final test (the pre-GED, as opposed to the pre-pre-GED, or the GED assessment test), and then I will be able to get the actual diploma. Everything after Chapter 1 is pure silliness. Oh yeah, and I know nothing about ballet, so if I got it wrong, I’m sorry.

Chapter 1

Corde sighed and put a few more pencil marks on her much-doodled page. The decision to take a year off and home school had been the best one of her life, but she really hated the GED class she had to take. She was so ready for college, now if she would only get accepted… she sighed again and kept scribbling her little picture of Xena and Gabrielle stick figures. They had speech balloons with bad grammar. Just like the rest of this class…

“Corde,” said Aeryn, “stop mocking the GED class. Pay attention. You might learn something.”

“That is so wrong in so many ways,” Corde disagreed. “I probably won’t learn anything I didn’t already know. If I do, it will have been an accident on their part. See? That verb tense I just used? They didn’t know how to use it. Future Perfect. I knew it in English before I was ten, learned it in Latin two years ago.”

“But this class is important for these people,” Aeryn advised. “They’re really trying to learn.”

“Yes, I know,” said Corde, “and more power to ‘em. But I hate being here. It’s BORING!”

“Good practice for life,” said Aeryn. “You won’t always be surrounded by people as smart as you. I should know,” she added, rolling her eyes at Crichton, who had just hit himself in the head with his homemade paddleball.

“Ava save me from being stuck with someone like HIM. How’d he ever get to be a scientist, anyway?”

“Idiot savant,” explained Aeryn. “With less savant and more idiot.”

“Ah,” said Corde. They examined him in silence for a time with intently critical stares.

“He sure is cute though.”

“Gods, yes.” They watched him some more. 

Finally, Corde turned away. “I only have to sit through two more classes after today,” she said. “Then I can take the dratted GED test and be done with it.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” said Aeryn, never taking her eyes off Crichton.

Chapter 3

“What happened to Chapter 2?” wondered D’Argo.

“I don’t know. Does anyone really care?” Corde asked the fic at large. No one said anything.

Chapter 2

“Ah, there it is,” said Aula Naevia. “Hey, why does the spellchecker know ‘Aula’ and not ‘Naevia’?”

“Beats me,” said Corde.

Chapter 4

“Chapters are getting shorter these days,” said Crichton. “In my day, we had to walk twenty miles in the snow in each chapter. Uphill both ways. With no shoes, no socks, and no feet.”

“Crichton, you idiot. Stop talking. Now.”

“Who said that?” asked Corde.

“Uh oh. When the author doesn’t know who’s speaking, does that mean we have a problem?” asked Chia Pet. “DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“Well, I guess I just didn’t decide. It could have been anyone. Even Jaimie,” said Corde, right as Jaimie and Tinka walked up.

“Hey goober,” Jaimie said to everyone in the fic. “What’s up?” Tinka put her hands on her ears and closed her eyes.

“Hey James. Did you just tell Crichton to shut up?”

“I sure did,” said Jaimie. “He was pissing me off. He sure is cute though.”

“Yeah,” said Aeryn, who was fixated on his biceps for some strange reason.

“Uh, Aeryn? You feeling okay?” asked Corde.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Aeryn, looking up. “I was fixated on his biceps for a minute there, but I’m okay now.”

As Crichton tried to figure out whether that was a compliment or an insult, Aeryn and Corde wrapped yellow plastic CAUTION tape around Jaimie’s car. Jaimie acted indignant. “Corde, that’s the second time this week!”

“I know,” giggled Corde, “but I didn’t tell the list about it the first time. I thought they might be amused.”

“So I get a gift-wrapped car for the amusement of the ‘shippers? I see how it is. You like them better than you like me.” Jaimie pretended to pout.

“Yep,” Corde agreed cheerfully. “They don’t make me sit in the back seat.”

Jaimie grinned. “Love you, babe. Gotta go, Steve just paged me.”

“Love you. And you, TINKA,” Corde yelled so Tinka could hear. Tinka nodded and grinned, but didn’t open her eyes or uncover her ears. The girls wandered out.

“Hmm, people seem to do a lot of wandering in your fic, Corde,” remarked Chia Pet.

“Yes they do. It’s my preferred mode of transportation,” said Corde.

D’Argo waltzed into the room, wearing a purple tutu. Music swelled in the background. He executed three plies, a neat pirouette, and stood pointe. He grinned hugely and shouted, “I’m DANCING!” before leaping off in a series of grande jetes. 

“I did not need to see that,” Aeryn stated blandly.

Corde was trying valiantly to hold in a giggle. Her stomach started to hurt.

THE END

You can see Ka D’Argo as the Sugarplum Fairy in “The Nutcracker” every Sunday afternoon at 4:30 through 2005.


	7. The Perils Of Discussing Popular Culture With Fictional Characters Who May Very Well Turn Out To Be Music Critics In Another Life

Chapter 1

“I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way…” Corde crooned as she sat at her computer. Aeryn came up behind her and smacked her upside the head. “OW!” screamed Corde. “What the frell did you do that for?”

“Don’t sing that song,” said Aeryn.

“WHAT song?” asked Corde, still rubbing the back of her head.

“THAT song,” said Aeryn. 

“Oh. Sorry,” said Corde. “It was an accident. I hate that song. I won’t do it again.”

“See that you don’t,” Aeryn warned, the PK mentality showing in her face.

Corde typed in silence for a few more minutes. She was working on a Farscape fic. After a while, she started to hum softly. Then she began singing. “Heartbreaker, you got the best of me, and I just keep on coming back incessantly…” Aeryn smacked her upside the head again.

“Don’t sing that either,” she told Corde.

“OW! Yeah, sorry. I can’t seem to help it for some reason…” said Corde pitifully.

“Try,” said Aeryn.

She worked quietly for a time. Then, for no reason, she suddenly belted out, “You drive me crazy! I just can’t think…” and Aeryn smacked her upside the head. “Thanks Aeryn. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Corde said gratefully.

“Not much,” said Aeryn. “You’d be infinitely less entertaining, for one.”

“You got that right,” said Corde. Just then, Crichton wandered in (“Sheesh!” said Chia. “More wandering! This has got to be the wanderingest group of characters around.” “Shut up, Chia Pet. Who’s the author here?” growled Corde.) wearing headphones. He was singing.

“Hit me baby one more time!” he sang with feeling. Aeryn hit him. Crichton fell to the floor, out cold.

“That was easy enough,” she said, dusting her hands off. Corde nodded her agreement and went back to her fic.

After a few minutes, she stopped. “This just isn’t working.”

“Hmm?” Aeryn asked absently, studying Crichton’s pecs from where he had fallen on the floor.

“I can’t write. It’s not working. There’s nothing there. It won’t happen,” Corde overexplained. 

“What?” Aeryn asked, looking up from Crichton. “What do you mean? Let me see,” and she went over to the computer and read over Corde’s shoulder. “Oh,” she said when she had finished reading. “I see what you mean. You keep singing bad songs, and I keep hitting you. Not much of a plot there…”

“I know,” said Corde, “that’s my point. I can’t think of a plot.”

“Not that you usually have one,” said Chia Pet. “And are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Not as long as you keep insulting my fic,” Corde answered sweetly, “so get used to it.”

D’Argo limped into the room. “Hey,” Chiana remarked with surprise, “he’s not wandering.”

“My feet hurt too much to wander,” D’Argo complained. “What happened? I feel as though my feet have been run over by many hundreds of DRDs.”

No one looked at him. After a few more grumbles, he limped off to soak his feet.

“Wuss,” said Zhaan. Everyone dissolved into giggles.

Chapter 2

Aula Naevia was translating Virgil’s “Aeneid” one day when she came upon a curious word. “Book 1 line 50!” she exclaimed. “ ‘Corde’ is an actual Latin word!” But since Naevia had never been a very good Latin student, she didn’t know what the word meant. So she looked it up. “Check this out!” she exclaimed. “ ‘Cordax, cordacis, m; indecent dance. Hmm, it sorta looks like ‘corde,’ but it doesn’t decline right. Ah, here it is. ‘Cor, cordis, n: heart.’ So ‘corde’ means ‘by/with/from the heart.’ Fun.”

“Better than ‘wuss,’” said Zhaan.

“Too right,” said Naevia. Then she did a double take. “Hey, where did you come from?”

Chapter 3

Aeryn was trying to solve a mystery. “So Corde, why did you start to sing all those bad songs?”

Corde shrugged. “I watched the Billboard Music Awards,” she said. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Ah-HA!” Aeryn said with satisfaction. “Then my Britney Spears theory is correct!”

“What, the one where she’s a skank?” Corde asked maliciously. (“Can I say skank in this?” Corde asked. “Sure,” Aeryn replied, “it’s PG13.”)

“No, although she is,” Aeryn answered. “The one where the frequency of her music carries an alien brain fungus which makes all listeners addicted to her music, and later receptive to an alien takeover.”

“Oh, that,” said Corde. “Yeah, everybody knows that.”

“Oh,” said Aeryn. “Okay then.”

Chapter 27

Zhaan kicked Loni Anderson viciously in the ribs. “And THAT,” she screamed, “is for ‘Munchie Strikes Back’!”

“Whoa,” said D’Argo. “She’s down for the count.”

Chapter 3

Aeryn was trying to solve a mystery. “So Corde, why did you start to sing all those bad songs?”

Corde shrugged. “I watched the Billbo… hey, didn’t we already do this one?”

Aeryn looked around. “Yeah, I guess we did. Just before we saw Zhaan kicking the dren out of Loni Anderson.”

“Good. She deserves it for ‘A Night at the Roxbury” if nothing else.”

Crichton woke up, shook his head, and turned on his headphones again. He then began jerking his head in time with the music. 

“Excuse me,” said Aeryn. She went over to Crichton and punched him. He went down and stayed there.

“Excellent form,” Corde critiqued. “Perfect arch, wonderful follow-through, that was a ten point floor dive, if I do say so myself.”

Aeryn sniffed. “It went a little wobbly around the end.”

“That’s because he was unconscious before he hit the floor,” Corde scolded. “You really need to pull your punches, just enough so that he has a fighting chance. Well,” she amended, “not a fighting chance. Just a chance to retain consciousness long enough to execute a decent dive.”

“If you say so,” said Aeryn. “Hey, I think this fic is long enough now.”

Corde looked at the information bar on the screen. “Yep, it’s over three pages. I guess that means this is

THE END


	8. I’ve Told You Time And Time Again Not To Drink Anything With Caffeine After Four O’Clock In The Afternoon, But Did You Listen To Me? Noo…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I quickly move from the realm of sillyfic to the equally bizarre but scarier realm of badfic, I have but two words to say: I’m sorry. Jeff Foxworthy warning to meridianophobes (people who are afraid of southerners).

Chapter 1

“TAVLEK!” Corde shouted.

Chapter 2

“Was that the freakazoid Farscape version of ‘Rosebud’?” Jaimie asked.

“Er, yeah, something like that,” admitted Corde. “Holy frelling son of a bacchae.”

“Corde,” Tinka said warningly, “you’re mixing genres again.”

Corde sighed. “I know. But I have to do something to make this fic interesting. I think I’m running out of ideas.”

“Nonsense,” said Aeryn. Tinka closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. “You just aren’t inspired.”

“Oh, and I was before? Even Ekiri said they were getting worse.”

“No, she just said the last one wasn’t as hilarious as the others. Get a grip, Corde, you’ll get an idea. You always do.” Aeryn was attempting to be reassuring.

It didn’t work. “But what if I don’t?” Corde wailed. “What if I only had a certain amount of silliness in my entire life, and I used it all in those seven fics?”

“Six,” said Aeryn.

“My fic folder has seven,” argued Corde.

“Yeah, but that last one wasn’t very good.”

“Neither is this one,” said Jaimie.

“Hey wait,” said Corde, realizing something. “Aren’t you and Tinka at a Kid Rock concert?”

“Yep,” said Jaimie. “In this story we’re just products of your twisted psyche.” Tinka nodded her agreement.

“Oh,” said Corde. “Well, now that we’ve established that…”

Chapter 3

“Why don’t you write what you wrote in GED class today?” asked Aeryn. “It will fill space if nothing else.”

“So this is all about filling space, huh? All I do is mumble for three pages and call it a fic?” Corde was beginning to get angry. Mostly at herself, since she couldn’t think of anything to write about. 

“It’s worked before,” said Aeryn. “Look, just call it chapter 4 and get on with it.”

“ ‘Get on with it’ she says. Huh. Maybe she’d like to be the author sometimes…”Corde grumbled as she got her notebook.

Chapter 4

Reciprocal Identities  
sin Q = 1/csc Q  
cos Q = 1/sec Q  
tan Q = 1/cot Q  
Pythagorean Identities

“What the frell are you doing?” Aeryn yelled.

“Oops, wrong page. These are the trig notes I took… okay, here’s the stuff I wrote.”

Chapter 4

“Corde,” said Aeryn, “what are you doing? You’re supposed to be reviewing trig. You are going to have to take math in college. And they won’t be learning about absolute values either. Unlike this class…”

“I know,” said Corde. “I’m warming up for the writing section of the pre-GED. I left the math for last, so I’m doing writing today.”

“Warming up? What a lame excuse,” said Aeryn. “You’re just trying to get out of trig.”

“No, really,” said Corde. “This creativity stuff doesn’t come in the mail, y’know. I have to exercise my creative muscles constantly.”

“But this isn’t a creative thing,” Aeryn argued. “It’s an essay thing. ‘Which one of the 19th century American presidents are you most like, and why’ and suchlike. You could do that in your sleep.”

{Jeff Foxworthy alert!} “I useta’could,” Corde corrected. “But I haven’t written a five paragraph paper since last May. I’ve nearly forgotten how. If I want this little thing to be good, it will have to be entertaining. Besides,” she added sheepishly,” my graphing calculator is broken.” 

“The batteries are dead, stupid,” Aeryn scoffed.

“I know that now,” Corde snapped. She looked up at what the class was doing. “Ava help me, they’re learning FRACTIONS!”

“No need to get snooty about fractions, Miss I-can’t-do-trig-without-my-calculator.” Aeryn admonished. “You’re learning vectors; they’re learning fractions. It’s all math. Now can it and do your trig.”

Chapter 5

“So how did you do on your writing test?” asked Jaimie.

“I don’t know. She didn’t have time to grade it before I left,” said Corde.

“WUSS!” yelled Zhaan.

“Why does she keep doing that?” Jaimie wondered, staring at the blue delvian.

“Someone said they liked it, so Corde thinks if she does it every time, at least one person will like her fic,” explained Crichton, who had just walked into the room wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

A faint, muffled cry was heard, of many female voices. “Thank you!” they called.

“Anytime,” Corde yelled back.

Aeryn smacked Crichton upside the head. “Put some clothes on.”

Crichton stood motionless for a few moments, and then walked away again.

“They wouldn’t do that on Seinfeld,” said Jaimie.

“Yeah, they probably would,” said Chia Pet.

“You’re right, they would,” said Jaimie. 

“Hey,” said Chia Pet. “Where’d everybody go?” 

THE END

Chapter 6

Tinka uncovered her ears. She didn’t hear anything. She opened her eyes. Nothing. “Uh, hey, Jaimie? Corde? Where did everybody go?”

THE END


	9. Crichton In Wonderland, But Not For Long.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay people, I have succeeded in scaring myself. I think that I have actually developed another personality and called her Aeryn. She yells at me a lot. Anyway, this was supposed to be the Wonderland fic, but I didn’t bother to do any research, so it kinda sucks. I also set a new record for number of times I say the word, “sucks.” Because this fic sucks.

Crichton In Wonderland, But Not For Long, Because The Author Didn’t Bother To Do Any Research At All, And In Fact Has Not Read “Alice In Wonderland” Or Seen The Movie In Over A Year. Kinda Makes You All Wish You Had Written It When You Had The Chance, Huh? And I Think This Is The Longest Title Now, Even Longer Than That One Fiona Apple Title, Which Is Sixty-Seven Words Long, Or Something Like That. This Title Is Eighty-Four Words Long

Prologue  
Once upon a time there was a scientist named Alice Crichton. He was very embarrassed by his first name, so he changed it to John. One day he was napping under an apple tree, hoping to rediscover gravity, when he followed a little gray/green muppet into a rabbit hole. And then the fun began…

Chapter 1

The muppet was floating in a chair, waving a scepter and asserting, “I am Rygel XVI, dominar of six hundred billion people. I don’t need to talk to you!” over and over. Crichton stared at him in scientific bafflement, and then followed him into the rabbit hole. It may be noted that regular rabbit holes are quite a bit too small for humans, but just go with it. 

Upon entering the rabbit hole, Crichton was surprised to find a small room with a regular-looking end table. On it were two foodcubes; one was labeled “EAT ME” and the other labeled “NO, EAT ME FIRST.” Crichton ignored them both and walked through the door. Yes, I know I didn’t mention the door before, I forgot, okay?

Crichton wandered past a mock-turtle and a bunch of shrimps, because I haven’t read “Alice in Wonderland” in a long time, and I wouldn’t know how to properly Farscapeize that scene. He went straight to the Tea Party.

At this point, Corde realized she should have read “Alice in Wonderland” before she started to write this spoof, but she was too lazy to go find her copy and skim it. Also, she didn’t have a topic for her fic-of-the-day, and decided she could “use rhetoric to obscure the lack of topic,” as Jake would say. That was for the Animorph fans out there. Corde just read #10 and was quite amused by Marco as the narrator.

So Crichton stumbled onto a tea party in the middle of the woods and sat down. There was a very blue woman with a large hat on, eating tea and drinking crumpets. There was also a strange-looking man with tentacles and big brown furry bunny ears. Hey, we have to have some way of telling who they are, don’t we? The Mad Hatter and the March Hare. Don’t you people know your Wonderland? Sheesh. Anyway, there was also a Pilot in a teapot, who recited a little poem.

Twinkle twinkle little ship,  
When we're on you, it's a trip.  
Out in space it is so dark,  
Like the inside of a shark.  
Twinkle twinkle little ship,   
When we ride you it's a trip.

Seeing that no one was going to stop him, he went on to the second verse.

Twinkle, twinkle Moya dear,  
With luxan blood and human fear.  
A few kisses, lots of luck  
Maybe later, just one f—

Corde cut in. “Let’s keep it PG13, shall we?”

So the Mad Hatter and the Hare (Zhaan and D’Argo, remember?) were having a grand old time, and then Crichton decided he had had enough of the party and left. He was wandering in the woods when he heard a disembodied voice singing something really awful. (Didn’t the cat sing or something? I forget.) Then he saw a really bad hairdo, floating in midair. Soon the rest of Chia’s body materialized. See? She’s being the Cheshire Cat. Oh pipe down, you didn’t write it so I get my way.

He kept walking and soon ran across two familiar figures. It looked just like the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, but actually it was Tweedledum and Tweedlereallydum. See, D’Argo and Zhaan have to double up here, because there aren’t enough people. And I’m not even doing all of them.

Then he walked some more, and came upon a croquet field. Crais was there, dressed in a pretty red dress and singing “The Crais Song.” His henchmen were scattered around the field, making sure his croquet ball went through at least one hoop each time. He looked up when Crichton walked onto the field, and shouted, “Off with his head! By the way, who’s the prettiest Red Queen around?” His henchmen all cried, “It’s you! It’s you!” Crichton took the hint and ran away.

He ran for a very long time, until he ran into a very large mushroom. The muppet was sitting on it, smoking and waving his scepter. “Whooooooo…. Arrrrrrrrre…. Youuuuuuuuu…?” he asked. Then went on, “Oh, don’t bother telling me. I don’t really care. Go away.” Crichton went.

He woke up some time later, still under the apple tree, but with a large bruise on his head and an apple on the ground next to him. “Wow,” he said. “I must have gotten bonked on the head by an apple, passed out and had a strange dream.”

THE END

Chapter 2

“I am continually impressed, Corde,” said Aeryn. “Every time I think you can’t possibly write anything stupider, you write more.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Corde grumpily. “Glad you liked it.”

“It sucked.”

“Um…. Anthony told me to do it.”

“Oh he DID, did he?” Aeryn glared warningly at Anthony. 

Who wasn’t there. “You forgot what happened the last time I used him,” said Corde. “He put me in one of his fics, and it wasn’t pretty.”

“Oh yeah,” said Aeryn. “Never mind then.” They sat in silence.

“So…” said Corde, desperately looking for some sort of topic. “If you were a vegetable, what kind of vegetable would you be?”

“Eggplant,” Aeryn replied absently. Then she did a doubletake. “What did I just say?”

Corde giggled. Aeryn glared. Corde decided to change the topic. She started singing to herself. “Twinkle, twinkle, little ship…”

Aeryn said in a voice full of pure venom, “If you even think about singing the second verse, I’ll rip your throat out and hogtie you with it.”

“Would it even be long enough?” Corde asked just for the macabre value of the question. 

Aeryn grinned ferally. “I’d MAKE it long enough.”

Corde shrugged and sang Christmas carols to herself. 

“Why are you in such a bad mood, Aeryn?” Corde asked idly after Aeryn had been stonily ignoring her for several minutes.

“You’re the author, you tell me,” Aeryn snapped.

“Is it because I didn’t put you in the Wonderland fic?”

“Gods no! I would have had to shoot myself if you had.”

“Is it because this fic sucks?”

“That’s part of it…”

“Is it because you are part of my personality, and in talking to you I am actually talking to myself?”

“That sounds about right.”

Corde considered this. “So what am I mad at myself about?” 

“Is it because this fic sucks?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably it. Hey, thanks for finding my problem for me, Aeryn!” 

“No problem,” said Aeryn. “That’s what fictional characters are for. That and moral discussions.”

“Right,” said Corde. They looked at each other and laughed, then walked into the sunset.

THE END


	10. Caffeine Is Bad. Very, Very Bad. ’Nuff Said.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wasn’t gonna write tonight (my head really is killing me, I’m so glad I don’t have migraines very often), but I had to. I kept having thoughts, and they were too good not to write about, but I knew they wouldn’t be there tomorrow. Plus Anthony gave me a lot of really good ideas. So I wrote. Man, my head really hurts. Am I repeating myself? Oh well, it’s 3:30, and this is kinda what it must be like to be drunk. But I didn’t have any alcohol. Is it possible to become inebriated by association? And can one be inebriated if one can use that word? And can one have a second personality if one is worried that they do? Or are you only crazy if you think you’re sane? (This is the point where Aeryn tells me to shut up.)

Chapter 1

It was one o’clock in the morning. Corde thought that she was being very sneaky.

“And where have you been? Aeryn asked loudly.

Corde winced. “Ow. Not so loud, please. My head hurts.”

Aeryn glared. “So where were you?”

“I worked until nine, and then I went to Orb’s party. I didn’t think I’d be out so late.”

Aeryn sniffed. Her eyes narrowed. “And have you been drinking?”

Corde laughed, and then winced as her headache got worse. “Ow. No, I can’t hold alcohol, you know that.” True statement. Corde had once had a capful of root beer schnapps mixed with ginger ale and had fallen asleep in minutes. 

Aeryn raised an eyebrow. “So why do you look drunk?”

Corde just looked at her. “This, my dear, is not drunk. It is not hung over. It is not high. It is merely me when I’m with my friends.”

Aeryn stared in wonder. “You have friends?”

“Har de har har. Yes, I have friends. They just don’t like me very much.”

Aeryn snorted. “With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

“Quite,” Corde replied, as she stared at Aeryn pointedly.

Aeryn ignored the stare. “So if you’re not drunk or high, what’s wrong with you?”

Corde sighed. “Did you know that Dr. Pepper has caffeine in it?”

Aeryn blinked. “Yes, of course.”

Corde shouted, “WHY am I the ONLY one who didn’t KNOW that?”

“You drank some? Gee, Corde, that was smart, considering you’re allergic to it. Why didn’t you just smoke a cigarette while you were at it?” Aeryn said sarcastically.

Corde groaned. “I can’t believe this. Some people are allergic to peanut butter or strawberries. I’m allergic to vices! Can’t smoke, can’t drink, can’t even have CAFFEINE for Ava’s sake… what happens if I’m allergic to sex as well?”

Crichton giggled.

“Hey,” Aeryn snapped. “Let’s keep it PG13.”

“Right,” Corde sighed. “At least I’m not allergic to tobacco, alcohol, caffeine AND strawberries and peanut butter. That would just be very unfun.”

“ ‘Unfun’? This is a word? ‘Unfun’? Is that like that girl said on the radio, ‘I couldn’t be more happier’? Sheesh. English isn’t even my first language and I can use it better than you people,” complained Aeryn.

“Oh, I know,” said Corde. “I can’t stand bad grammar. Like when people write ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re.’ That makes me so mad, I have gotten used to writing ‘you’re,’ so now sometimes I write ‘you’re’ when I really mean ‘your.’”

“Corde?”

“Yes Aeryn?”

“Shut up. You’re babbling.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 2 

“…Delia had had a shot of gin at ten, so at midnight when she was supposed to be home, Perry drove her home, and Dite and I followed in Dite’s car, then Dite drove me home and took herself and Perry back to the party,” Corde explained. “That’s why I didn’t get home until 1.”

“Did Orb like her present, at least?”

“Oh yeah. She wore it the rest of the night. I gave her the bracelet I got in New York, and a box of chocolate. She didn’t wear that. And then we all danced to Led Zeppelin. Well, Delia danced to Led Zeppelin. The rest of us laughed. She was just a little spiffed.”

“A shot of gin? Yeah, that’s a little spiffed.”

“Not for most of them. They all drink like fish. It’s kind of sad, really. I feel so left out.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t. I don’t like the taste of alcohol anyway. And I don’t like what it does to me.”

Aeryn snickered. “Yeah, Orb was telling me about the first time you drank. Half a glass of Grasshopper drowned in Pepsi. She said you were falling down the stairs.”

“I would have fallen down the stairs anyway,” Corde protested. “They’re really narrow. And besides, I don’t remember that part.”

“That’s because you blacked out. That’s not a good sign.” 

“I KNOW! That’s why I didn’t drink tonight.”

“… And had caffeine instead and have a headache now. Yeah, good choice,” said Aeryn.

“Shut up,” Corde mumbled. “Gods! How long does it take for Advil to kick in?”

“Quite a while, considering you haven’t taken any,” Aeryn said dryly.

“Oh,” said Corde. “That explains a lot,” and she went off in search of Advil.

Chapter 3

The Enforcer sauntered in, acting like the brat that she is. Corde whipped out her AK-47 and shot her seventy-three times in the head.

Chapter 4

“What the frell was THAT?” asked Aeryn.

Corde spat and muttered with a southern accent, “She needed killin’.”

“I believe that’s a valid defense in parts of Kentucky, but since we aren’t in Kentucky, you mind telling me what that was?”

Corde sighed. “She’s on the Amazon list I’m on. She was being a brat. Actually she was being something else, but I’d like to keep this PG13, so I’ll just say brat. I’m not in the mood to deal with her, so Anthony suggested I put her in a fic and kill her. It made me feel better.”

“That’s all well and good,” Aeryn said. “But who’s gonna clean up the blood? And don’t even look at me, Miss Shoot-First-and-Ask-Questions-Later. I’ll get you a mop.”

Corde looked in disgust at the bloody mass on the floor. Then she cheered up. “It was worth it,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Aeryn came back with the mop and Corde set to work cleaning up the late Enforcer.

Chapter 5

“At least your chapters are getting better,” remarked Aeryn. “They have definite themes and endpoints.”

“Aww, you mean I’m starting to write better? Shoot, I’m gonna have to work on that,” said Corde.

“Now if you would just work on the subject matter…” Aeryn began.

Corde shot her a warning glare. “Don’t go there,” she advised. “You don’t wanna go anywhere near there. Like the list says, this is me delving into the far reaches of my psyche. Thanks for that phrase, by the way, Natalie, was it? Or Cristin or Rachel… I forget. Sorry. But thanks, whoever it was.”

Aeryn gave her a ‘Corde-you-psycho’ look. “Whatever you say.”

Corde said, “And now, before we ride into the sunset a la Rachel, I’d like to leave you with a quote, a la Rayne. ‘Always remember to pillage BEFORE you burn.’ That’s a good one. I bet Xena followed that advice. That goes along with Cristin’s Middle Ages quote, sorta. So now everyone is having quotes, and I still don’t have one. Maybe I should…”

“Corde,” Aeryn interrupted.

“Yes, Aeryn?”

“Shut up.”

THE END


	11. Reflections On Whether The Cheap Knock-Off Can Ever Be As Good As The Original, And Is It Really Cordefic If Anyone Else Writes It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earlier tonight, Anthony reminded me that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Does anyone really believe that? Leo, you had to know that you were Cordefic fodder the minute you clicked the send button. I’m glad you thought highly enough of my style to use it yourself, but I must say it was weird reading something like that that I hadn’t written. It sure is fun though, isn’t it?

Chapter 1

Corde snickered. “Anger management. Hey Aeryn, did you hear what Siobhan said? She said you need anger management.”

“Manage this,” Aeryn said as she smacked Corde upside the head.

Chapter 2

“So, Corde, how do you feel about all these people copying your style?” Aeryn asked.

“Let me put it this way,” said Corde, as she took out her phaser, set it on “vaporize,” and took careful aim at Leo. Leo cowered in terror. “Gratuitous chapter usage is MY trademark, darn it! Bugger off!”

“Now who needs anger management?” Aeryn snickered.

“And what was up with Anthony’s little obsession with centrifugal force?” Chia Pet asked. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Probably not,” Corde replied, “and I don’t know about Anthony. I guess when you’re a senile dragon…” A muffled roaring was heard from outside the room. “Yeah, I’m talking about YOU, old man!” Corde yelled. She continued, “As I was saying, when you’re a senile old rock of a dragon…” 

A very loud thump interrupted Corde. They all turned to look.

Chapter 3

“Oh look, we’re already on chapter 3 and still on the first page. Is someone running out of things to say?” Aeryn taunted.

“No,” Corde snapped. “It’s only 10:40. I have plenty of time to write this fic. I’m just a little slow tonight.”

“Slow. Yeah, that’s a good adjective for you…” Aeryn mused.

Chapter 4

“Hey, what was the thump?” asked Zhaan.

“A plot device,” replied Corde. “I didn’t have anything else to say, so something had to interrupt me.”

“Oh,” said Zhaan. “That was the stupidest plot device I have ever heard.”

“I love you too, Zhaan.”

Chapter 5

“I’ll be HANGED if anyone else uses MY style and crams in more chapters than I do!” Corde screamed in a psychotic fashion.

“Ugh. There you go using the word ‘fashion’ again. Corde, that word is never to be used unless you are discussing clothes or hair. I think you need to write sentences,” said Aeryn.

“What? No, you can’t be serious. I’m in the middle of a fic here!” Corde protested. Aeryn reached for her pulse rifle and Corde sighed and picked up a pen. 

“ ‘I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion,”’” Aeryn dictated. 

“Ooh, lookit all the pretty quotation marks!” said Corde.

“Just write,” Aeryn commanded.

I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion.”  
I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion.”  
I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion.”  
I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion.”  
I will not tolerate improper use of the word “fashion.”

“Okay,” said Aeryn, “that’s enough. You can write the other 495 after you’re done with the fic.”

THE END

Chapter 6

“And another thing,” Corde screamed. “No more of these fake endings! I came up with that! It’s my idiotic plot device, and YOU CAN’T USE IT!” The hand that was holding the phaser aimed at Leo began to shake. Leo cowered in fear.

Chapter 7

“Whoa, Corde, switch to decaf, okay?” said Crichton.

Corde swung around and shot him in the chest. “I can’t have caffeine, you dolt. Weren’t you paying attention to last night’s fic?” 

Aeryn groaned. “Who’s gonna mop THIS up?”

Chapter 8

“You know,” Bongo mused, “I’m pretty sure TPTB wouldn’t be too thrilled with your fics. Just look at your characterization. You’ve got the ‘Genius Strongboy Crichton’ character shot to frell. And don’t even get me started on Aeryn…”

“Bad muse. BAD muse. If you’re not going to help, then go away,” said Corde.

Chapter 9

A drumroll. 

More drumroll.

Drum still rolling.

And…

CRISTIN!

She gets a kick out of being mentioned. Love ya, Cristin!

Chapter 10

“What the frell was that?” demanded Aeryn. “We don’t do these ridiculous fics just so you can give a shout out to the shippers. This is serious business here.” She glared at Corde for approximately 0.3 seconds before bursting into laughter. “No, that was just too much. Whoo! Okay, really now…”

Chapter 11

Ava help me, I’ll get to chapter 27 if it KILLS me!

Chapter 12

“Or me,” said Rygel

Chapter 13

“Or me,” said Chia Pet. “DON’T CALL ME THAT.”

Chapter 14

“Or me,” said Pilot. 

Chapter 15

“Or me,” said a naked blue chick, er, Zhaan.

Chapter 16

“Or me,” growled D’Argo.

Chapter 17

“Or me,” said Crichton, mopping up his own blood. (Don’t worry, it’s stage blood.)

Chapter 18

“Or me,” said Leo. 

“That can be arranged,” said Corde, twitching her trigger finger. Leo turned a little paler.

Chapter 19

“Don’t look at me,” said Aeryn. “I’m not gonna say it.” She walked over to Corde and smacked her upside the head. “Shut up. You’re not gonna make it to chapter 27.

“Okay,” said Corde.

THE END

Chapter 20

“Hey,” whined Leo. “Why didn’t you threaten to kill Anthony? He copied your style too.”

“Let me put it this way,” said Corde, as she pulled the trigger. (Do phasers have triggers? I don’t really care.) “Shut up.”

THE END


	12. I Think It’s Time To Stop When Your Characters Are Singing So Loudly That Your Parents Can Hear Them In The Other Room And They Ask Who That Man Is Singing And You Have To Say That It’s The Radio When It’s Really A Peacekeeper Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last one, folks. It has been getting harder and harder to come up with this stuff, and I think I just drained the last of it. Well, SOMEthing was leaking out my ears… I have to give idea-credit and character-credit to Anthony. Tell Nirre I said thanks for being in my fic. Oh, and just so you guys don’t get all worried, no, I did not, nor would I ever, go out with Crais. Although he did sing to me…

Chapter 1

As much as Corde hated to start out a fic using someone else’s idea, she found herself accepting an invitation to dinner with Crais. Anthony had suggested it. But he had also sent Larraq to escort her, so it wasn’t all bad. But at the last second, Larraq came down with some sort of… virus, so Corde went alone. 

“Wait a minute,” said Aeryn.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘microt’?” asked Chia Pet.

“Shut up,” Aeryn replied. “As I was saying, wait a minute. Corde, you’re going to dinner with Crais?”

“Yeah, so?” said Corde, who was studying herself in the mirror.

“You’re going to DINNER with the man who has vowed to hunt me down and KILL me?”

“Yeah, so? This is only the first date I’ve been asked on in…hmm, my life. Why shouldn’t I go?”

“BECAUSE HE WANTS TO KILL ME!”

“And just for that you assume he won’t be a good date?”

Aeryn stalked off, muttering sebacean curses.

Chapter 2

“I am so glad this is a work of fiction,” Aeryn remarked. “If it weren’t, I’d have to shoot your for that first chapter.”

“Hey,” said Corde, “don’t blame me. It was Anthony’s idea.”

Chapter 3

Corde sighed. (“There’s almost as much sighing around here as there is wandering! What’s up with that?” asked Chia Pet. “Shut up,” Corde told her.) It was nearly 11:30 and she was still on the first page of her fic. Worse, she was totally drawing a blank. 

“That’s it,” she muttered. “I’m out of fic. I used it all up. It’s gone. GONE!” she moaned loudly.

“What’s gone?” asked Gabrielle.

“Crichton’s beard,” said Xena. “He had one in ‘Jeremiah Crichton,’ but he shaved it for ‘Durka Returns.’”

“I thought it was fake, like Ares’ facial hair in the first season of ‘Xena,’” said Gabrielle.

“I did too,” said Xena, “but Anthony says it was real.”

“HEY!” Corde screamed. “Hello! This is MY fic! What are you people doing here?”

Xena and Gabrielle looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t ask us,” said Gabrielle. “It’s your fic.”

“We were tired of not being updated by Missy Good,” Xena added, “so we came to chat with Aeryn. Is she around?”

“I’m here,” said Aeryn as she walked into the room munching on a Pop-Tart. “Hey Xena, Gabrielle, how ya doin’?”

“Same old same old, died, came back, went to Chin, saved the world, got pregnant. You know,” said Xena. The three laughed.

Corde sat at her computer pouting as Xena, Gabrielle and Aeryn chatted about fighting techniques and rehashed their oldest argument about the pantac jab vs. the pinch. It was nearly 11:45 and she was no closer to anything resembling a plot. Sometimes crossovers sucked.

Chapter 4

Bongo laughed at Corde. “I know I say this all the time, Corde, but I must admit that this truly IS your worst fic ever.”

A ten-year-old girl walked up to Bongo and smacked him upside the head.

“Thanks, Nirre,” said Corde.

“No problem,” said Nirre, and she walked out.

Bongo stared in shock. “Who was that?”

Corde replied, “Anthony’s AU Crichton-Sun offspring. Cute, ain’t she? She surely is her mother’s daughter.

“Shoulda known,” Bongo muttered. “She has the same technique…”

Chapter 5

“Wow, look. You made it to the third page,” said Aeryn, “and it only took you three hours.”

“I was attic surfing for two and a half of it,” Corde snapped. “And look what I found! Baby pictures of little Aeryn! Aww… Here, let me send them to the shippers.”

Aeryn shrugged. “Okay. I was an adorable baby, wasn’t I?”

Crichton drooled on his (bare, for some odd reason) chest. “You sure were, Aeryn.”

Aeryn picked up another stack of pictures. “While you, on the other hand…” She held up a picture of a baby monkey. “Whew. It’s a wonder your mother didn’t drown you.”

Bongo snatched the picture from Aeryn’s hand. “That’s me,” he said.

Chapter 6

“Does anyone else realize that these chapters are getting shorter?” asked Aeryn.

“That means Corde it running out of ideas,” said Corde. “And when Corde runs out of ideas, she also speaks in the third person. Rather like some of the shippers…”

CRISTIN!

“Wuss,” said Zhaan.

D’Argo jete'd across the room wearing his favorite purple tutu.

“Ahem. If you are quite finished…” said Aeryn.

“Hey, if it worked once, it will work again!” said Corde. “At least, that’s what Sylvester Stallone said about the Rocky movies…”

—and then it all just went bleh—

THE END

“Oh great, stealing from Resnick wasn’t enough, now you have to steal from Douglas Adams too?” said Aeryn.

“That wasn’t Adams,” Corde denied. “It was me, years ago. If anything, it was my brother. Hey, it could have been worse.”

“How?” Aeryn asked.

“I could have blown everything up.”

—and then, everything exploded—

“CRICHTON!” Aeryn yelled. “GET THE MOP!”

THE END

**Author’s note: In case anyone was wondering, I write the fic first, then the introductory paragraph, then the title. It’s kinda backwards. Okay, really backwards. So that’s why the titles don’t always make sense.**


	13. What Happens When A Non-Scaper Is Assimilated Into A Farscape Fic, And Pooh’s Feelings About It. Okay, The Part About Pooh Is A Lie; He’s Not In This Fic. Maybe Next Time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Anthony, because every time I chat with him, he says stuff like, “Hey, wouldn’t that be a great fic? Why don’t you write it?” and I keep saying, “Because I’m not writing fic anymore.” Well, Tinka came over and I sat down and started typing. And I know this isn’t going to be the last one, because I didn’t mention the GED class not knowing when to add “the” or alberts or my brother. So here’s to you, Anth. Hope you dislike it so you don’t keep bugging me.

Chapter 1

“Aeryn,” Corde asked without preamble, “is it egotistical of me to get a kick out of my own work?”

“If you keep using phrases like ‘without preamble,’ you’re going to get a kick all right…” Aeryn mumbled from the couch she had been napping on. “On which I had been napping, thank you. Prepositions do not come at the end of sentences.”

“Common usage rule,” Corde replied. “Everybody does it, so I can too.”

“If everyone jumped off a cliff…” Aeryn began.

“Depends on who ‘everyone’ is. If, say, Chia were jumping off a cliff, I’d gladly jump after her just to make sure she made it to the bottom okay. ‘Okay’ meaning ‘in several pieces,’” Corde explained. “And you never answered my question.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Bongo, who was really Anthony, who was really Bongo pretending to be Anthony. “I thought you said you weren’t writing any more.”

“I’m not,” said Corde. 

“What’s this then?” the monkey asked.

“As soon as I figure it out, I’ll tell you,” said Corde. “And HEY! You are still in big trouble for that stunt you pulled with all the shippers’ muses. Get back in your cell.”

Aeryn dropkicked Bongo into next week. “Thank you,” said Corde.

“Not a problem,” said Aeryn.

Chapter 2

Darth Maul and Obi-Wan were facing off. No wait, they weren’t, because I can’t write about that. Sorry, let’s try that again.

Chapter 2

Um…

Chapter 3

“You’ve been practicing,” Aeryn observed. “That was definitely the worst Chapter 2 I’ve ever read.”

“Thank you,” said Corde.

Chapter 4

Tinka was lying on Corde’s bed. Oh, get your minds out of the gutter! She was lounging in Corde’s bedroom as Corde was writing fic. “Wow,” said Tinka. “You really suck at this fic stuff. I didn’t say that!” she added indignantly. “I would never tell you that your stuff sucked. Well, I would, but I didn’t this time.”

“I know,” said Corde, “but I needed a plot device.”

Everyone groaned. “Oh no, she’s talking about plot devices again!” shouted Zhaan.

“Run away! Run away!” said everyone else as they ran in fear.

“You know, Tinka, it’s really hard to write when you’re breathing down my neck. And the shippers are going to get the wrong idea,” said Corde. “Must you stand there and watch me type?”

“Duh,” said Tinka. “Yes, I must.”

“Go away and let me talk to Aeryn. We were having a conversation.”

“No we weren’t,” said Aeryn. “You were interrupting my nap. Where did Tinka go?”

“She went to get her shoes,” said Corde. “We’re going out to eat.”

“You’re leaving?” Aeryn asked.

“Yep,” said Tinka. “Xena rules, Xena rules, Xena rules.”

“Good,” said Aeryn. “Then I can get back to my nap.”

Chapter 5

“What chapter was I on?” Corde asked.

“Chapter 5,” said Tinka. Corde scrolled up to check. Tinka was right. “You doubt me? Foolish mortal,” said Tinka. “Oh yeah, and Xena rules, Xena rules, Xena rules.”

Chapter 6

The girls came back from Joe’s Crab Shack after a very large dinner of seafood. Corde was wearing a shirt that proclaimed, “Peace, Love & Crabs,” while Tinka held a double shot glass and wore a hat that asked, “Got Crabs?” 

“Yum,” said Tinka. “Now go wake Aeryn up so you can finish your dumb fic.”

“Watch it,” Aeryn hissed without opening her eyes. “I’m still napping.”

Tinka stared at Aeryn. “Why are you so tired all of a sudden?” she asked.

Aeryn shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask the author.”

Tinka turned to Corde. “Corde, why is—“

“I heard you,” Corde snapped. 

“I know you heard me,” said Tinka. “We’re in the same room. But I was trying to help you take up space.”

“Fine, okay, whatever,” said Corde. “Aeryn is tired because I left the keyboard in the middle of the fic, and for some reason I can’t think of anything to say.”

“Never stopped you before,” observed Tinka.

“HEY,” said Corde. “You don’t even READ my stuff, so don’t make fun.”

“Natalie archived it, everyone can read it, I have to make sure they all know how bad it is,” Tinka explained.

“Go away,” said Corde.

Chapter 7

“Person?” 

“Nope.”

“Weapon?”

“Yes.”

“Used more than once?”

“Yeah.”

“Used by Xena?”

“No.”

“Gabby?”

“Yep.”

“Made out of wood?”

“Probably not…”

“Hmm… first season?”

“No.”

“Second?”

“No.”

“Fourth?”

“Yeah.”

“India Arc?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. Powder compact.”

“Yep!” Corde and Tinka high-fived. “Good one,” Corde said.

“Not really,” said Tinka, “but I needed an easy one for you to put in your fic. Oh, hey, I really hope the shippers know something about Xena.”

“If not, they won’t care,” said Corde. “My fic doesn’t usually make much sense anyway.”

Chapter 8

Aeryn smacked Darth Maul upside the head. She then looked through the hole in her hand and screamed in pain. “OW! Frelling dren, he’s got HORNS!” 

Corde shouted, “Medic!” and Crichton went for the mop. Maul crossed his arms and looked at Aeryn smugly.

THE END


	14. Neither Jaimie Nor Tinka Had Any Input In This Story, And Chapter 8 Didn’t Really Happen, But Wouldn’t It Have Been Funny? Okay, Maybe That’s Just Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was hanging out with Tinka, and she was reading something she had printed off the Internet, and I had my notebook with me, so I started writing. It’s just a little something to keep me occupied until next Friday, and maybe you guys will laugh a little too. Or maybe not. I don’t know. It doesn’t have much to do with Farscape, beyond the characters, and it’s rather whacked. But suspend your disbelief for a minute and you might get a giggle out of it. Or not.

Chapter 1

“You never finished that one about the GED class,” Aeryn said accusingly.

“Yeah, because it wasn’t interesting in any way,” said Corde.

“That never stopped you before,” said Aeryn.

Chapter 2

“And then there was that one time my ponytail holders came to life and tried to take over the world,” said Jaimie.

“Your what?” Zhaan asked. D’Argo snickered.

“Yeah, and then my poofies banded together to help,” Jaimie continued.

“Your WHAT?” Zhaan asked forcefully. D’Argo snickered some more.

“You mean scrunchies,” said Corde. “The thing you put on the outside of the ponytail holder to make it look better.”

“Same thing,” Jaimie grumbled.

“Oh yeah, those things,” said Aeryn. “What are they called?”

“Poofies,” Jaimie told her.

“Scrunchies,” Corde corrected.

“I just call them hair thingies,” said Tinka. 

“What are you people talking about?” Zhaan demanded. D’Argo snickered so hard he choked.

Chapter 3

“So if your bunny slippers are in love, does that make you a slipper shipper?” Jaimie asked the list in general. D’Argo stopped choking long enough to giggle, then went back to snickering and choking again.

Chapter 4

Corde was reading in the living room one day when suddenly her lampshade decided it had had enough. “All right, blondy, step away from the lamp and put your hands in the air,” the lampshade said.

“I’m not blonde,” Corde said, not looking up from her book.

“Whatever,” said the lampshade. “Just put your hands up and move away from the lamp.”

“No,” said Corde. “If I go over there, I won’t have enough light to read by.” 

“That’s kind of the point, smarty. I’ve had enough of this turning the light on and off as you please. From now on, you’ll have light when I say you have light!” the lampshade proclaimed. 

Corde turned a page.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to be, eh?” said the lampshade, not quite sure what to do. It hadn’t planned on Corde ignoring it. She was supposed to be cowering in fear by now. “Fine, let’s see you ignore THIS!” and the light went out.

Corde reached over and turned the light back on.

“Oh, never mind,” said the lampshade, disgusted.

Chapter 5

Corde and Chia Pet were sharing a bottle of tequila. Okay, Chia was taking shots like a pro and Corde was sipping gingerly and complaining about the taste. 

“I don’t know what your deal is,” Chia grumbled. “This stuff isn’t potent at all. I’ve had three halfs of the bottle already and I’m fust jine.” Corde giggled.

“Whups,” she said, “I just got a hairclip stuck in my keyboard.”

“Get it out,” Chia advised.

“Can’t,” Corde told her. “It fell past the keys. It’s stuck under O, P, L, and the semicolon key. At least it’s not hampering my typing.”

“WHAT your typing?” Chia slurred.

“Hamper. It’s something you put clothes in. Or else it’s a kind of diaper, I forget,” Corde explained.

“Oh. That,” said Chia. “Hey, it’s getting kind of hard to walk.”

“Oh yeah?” said Corde. “Try playing golf with a volleyball sometime.” Chia passed out.

Chapter 6

“WHERE’S MY @*%#^ TEQUILA?” D’Argo roared. 

Corde giggled. Aeryn smacked her upside the head. 

Chapter 7

“Corde, what are you doing?” Aeryn asked.

“Um, writing fanfic?” Corde guessed.

“No, this is not fic. This is random scribbling in your notebook,” Aeryn told her. 

“Well, yeah, it is now, but I’m hoping for inspiration really soon,” Corde said.

Just then Resnick rode up on a beautiful black stallion. He started to say something, but Corde cut him off. “Let me guess, his name is Inspiration.”

“Uh, no, he’s Motivation. This is Inspiration,” Resnick said and pointed at a swaybacked donkey that must have been about three years older than dirt.

“THAT’S Inspiration?” Aeryn said incredulously.

“Hey, it gave Corde half a page.” Resnick shrugged. “What do you want from me? I’m not even a real character. Corde still can’t write fic, so she stole me.”

“What’s up with the sucky fic, Corde?” Chia Pet asked, waking from her alcohol-induced stupor.

“Watch it,” Corde snapped.

“No really,” D’Argo chimed in. “What is this dren?” Aeryn handed D’Argo the trophy for Obligatory Farscape Word of the Fic.

“Bongo is in Cuba,” Corde muttered by way of explanation. At the various raised eyebrows caused by that remark, she sighed and said, “He quit his job as my muse and took a raft to Cuba.”

“Waitaminute,” said Anthony. “I thought that people take rafts FROM Cuba TO Florida.”

“Normal people do,” Corde agreed. “But this is Bongo we’re talking about.”

“Ohyeah,” said Anthony.

THE END

Chapter 8

The Downsburg High School class of ’99 sat in the overheated gymnasium listening to speech after boring speech. Finally the oldest faculty member, Mr. Flack, got up to speak. He droned for what seemed like hours before finally closing with, “…and remember, graduates; Semper Ubi Sub Ubi.” 

The room was silent as the Latin students realized what he said and everyone else fell asleep. One bright senior muttered, “Semper tunicam gerete.”

Mr. Flack heard him. “That’s what I said!” the math teacher claimed. “Always wear--”

THE END

Chapter 9

“It’s a Latin joke, see?” said Corde. “Semper means ‘always’, sub is ‘under’, and ubi is the interrogative ‘where’, so when you put it together…”

THE END


	15. Yet Another Silly Line Uttered By Crais As Told To Kathe, Or By Kathe Putting Words In Crais’ Mouth, Or Something Like That Which I’m Not Too Sure Of Because It’s Late And I Was Up Late Last Night Watching Farscape, Yay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one just happened because I saw Kathe’s line about Crais’ skirt, and you know what happens when Kathe says something funny about Crais, whoops, a Cordefic is born. That’s how I got my start, 15 fics ago, with a little ditty called “The Importance of Being Calvin.” I’m still not sure if “Calvin” is singular or plural. This is somewhat of a milestone for me, and I’d like to thank you all for taking this strange journey with me. Now that you’re all asleep, I can start the fic and you won’t throw rocks. Thanks, Kathe, you’re the greatest. Maybe if I say that, she won’t remember that I didn’t wait for her permission to use her line. Oops.

Chapter 1

Corde slumped at her keyboard and sighed. “I must be nuts,” she said. “Trying to write Cordefic the day after an episode like THAT.”

Aeryn patted her on the back. “Not as nuts as the whackos on the X-Files boards who posted the night before the movie came out.”

“Yeah, but at least their fic was GOOD,” Corde said. “Hey, wait a minute, who are you? My Aeryn isn’t supportive and comforting. I’ve never seen an Aeryn who was supportive and comforting. What’s going on here?”

“Oh shoot,” said Saikra, Anthony’s ex-muse. “You found me out. Darn, Anthony will be displeased.”

“Why do you care? You left him and ran off to go shopping with Bongo. Using MY checkbook, I might add,” Corde accused.

**FLASHBACK**

“Whoa, we’ve never had one of these before. How does it work?” Corde asked.

Saikra slapped her upside the head. “Don’t you know anything? You get either the wobble effect or the mist effect, with a sorta voice-over thingy. Duh.”

Corde looked at her, impressed. “Now you’re starting to act like Aeryn.”

*wobble effect, with a voice-over*

Corde: It was many years ago… no wait, it was Tuesday. Yeah, okay, last Tuesday I was hanging out at the FaDoP board…

*cut ‘n’ paste* (Is it copy write infringement if you quote yourself from another place? I don’t care; I’m not going to sue myself. If I do, I’ll settle out of court and give myself $0.25 and a Vorkosigan book.) (Did you know there is no cent symbol on the keyboard? I can’t find it.)

Okay, so I'm going to a formal dance in a few weeks, and I'm trying to find a dress to wear, okay? So I go to open my closet, and it's rusted closed. Hey, I don't go into my closet all that much, I wear jeans and stuff. 

So I had to hunt down a crowbar, and let me tell you, it was a chore! Those crows don't like to give up their bars. So for future reference, never try to open your closet during Happy Hour. So I finally got a crowbar, finished off the Jack Daniels the crows had left, and went at my closet door. 

Twenty minutes later the closet was still closed, and the crowbar was SMIRKING at me. I decided it was time to call in the big guns, so I went after my 300lb ex-football player fraternity president philosophy major brother. He grumbled a lot, but I reminded him of his tattoos that I know about and our parents don't and he caved. 

So he came into my room, grunted, took a stance and GLARED at the closet. The closet door then did the logical thing and died. My brother lumbered off (presumably in search of beer) and I was able to move the corpse of the closet door over enough to get to my *ahem* dress (yes, that's dress, singular, I had to wear it to my cousin's wedding three years ago, it's horrid and will NOT fit, but it's the only one I have). And what do you think I saw?  
*  
*  
*  
*  
*  
*  
*  
*  
BONGO! He was wearing my dress and PRANCING around in my heels! Dear friends, this was a shock to say the least. I confess that I am ashamed of my muse. My dress is MAROON VELVET! Bongo is brown! Now, not that I have ANY fashion sense, but even I know that monkeys can't wear maroon velvet! He knows better than that! So I told him to take it off and I would get him a nice blue and green plaid skirt with a jaunty little beret to match... 

So now I have to go shopping for a new dress. Bugger. The saddest thing? Even as bad as Bongo looked in my dress, he still looked better than me.

*end cut ‘n’ paste*

*END FLASHBACK*

“So? What do you think?” Corde asked Saikra.

The ex-muse picked her jaw off the ground. She smacked Corde upside the head again. “That was so lame I was flabbergasted,” she explained. “Don’t do it again.”

Corde smirked. “Be glad I didn’t tell them my Wonderbra story.”

Chapter 2

Crais swooped onboard Moya. Protests sounded immediately from all directions.

“What do you think you’re doing? It’s already the second chapter and the second page, and the first actual CHARACTER you put in the frelling story is CRAIS?!?” D’Argo seemed to be on the edge of hyper-rage. 

“That tears it!” Zhaan declared. “She DID go on a date with him!”

“I didn’t!” Corde denied.

“Why else would he be the first one in the story?” Aeryn cut right to the point, as usual. “You must have gone out with him.”

“I never did!” Corde protested. “Just wait and see what he’s here for first! Really, let me show you.

Chapter 2

Crais swooped in wearing his newest Captain PK Leather Outerwear Skirt and Chaps Matched Set. On his head was a jaunty little Captain PK Yarmulke Smushyhat. “Like my new skirt ensemble?” he queried the ship at large. “Don’t I look more fetching than ever?” He swooped out again, accompanied by his henchmen, who were humming “The Crais Song” and asking, “Who’s the prettiest PK around?” at intervals just so Crais could answer with, “It’s me! It’s me! BWAHAHAH!”

The rest of the crew on Moya stared at each other in silence. It took only three seconds for them to burst into hysterical laughter. “Yep, that’s about right,” said Zhaan, wiping tears from her eyes.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to laugh at him when I saw him last night,” said Chia, tears making a mess of her face paint.

D’Argo was not laughing. He had a strange, faraway look on his face. “No, I do not want Aeryn to die.”

Aeryn smacked him upside the head. “Snap out of it, Bunky. We’re not filming anymore.”

D’Argo shook himself. “Oh yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Chapter 3

Bongo came prancing by while Corde was trying to write. “Bongo, will you stop that? Yes I see your eye shadow, no, it’s a horrible color on you, put my lipstick BACK, no I don’t use it but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you use it, and NO you may NOT get a tattoo on your chest that says ‘SEXY BEAST;’ monkeyfur and tattoos don’t mix.” Bongo pouted. “And take my shoes off! You’re going to stretch them out, and they’re the only heels I have! I may have to wear them in a few weeks!” 

THE END

“Damn monkeys. Can I say that? It’s PG-13, isn’t it? I guess the question should be whether to put spoiler space. I guess there are a few spoilers in here, like the D’Argo thing and Crais’ dress, but I’m not sure if that counts…”

Saikra smacked Corde upside the head. “You’re getting good at that,” Corde complimented.

“I’ve had lots of practice with Anthony,” Saikra admitted.

THE END

Chapter 4

"Oh, and I forgot to tell them about Bongo and Saikra stealing my checkbook and going shopping!" Corde exclaimed.

Anthony smacked her upside the head. "You just did, Junior."

Corde rolled her eyes. "Don't call me that, Bunky."

"Junior."

"Bunky."

"Junior."

"Bunky..."

THE END


	16. Ha Ha! I Actually Have Chapter Titles For The First Time! Aren’t You Proud Of Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last weekend I visited a friend of mine in Kenosha, Wisconsin. She invited me to her school’s formal dance, and I went and had a wonderful time. Anthony was glad I left, because he said I’d have a lot of time on the train to write fic. By hand. In pencil. Ugh. But I did, and this is the first fic that has been written ENTIRELY by hand before being typed. Anyway, I have no excuse for this except that I’ve been using Bongo as a pillow on the trains and he is Not Happy. When a muse is Not Happy, we get freakish fic.

Ha Ha! I Actually Have Chapter Titles For The First Time! Aren’t You Proud Of Me? Oh Well, It’s A Good Thing I Have Chapter Titles, Because This Story Title Sucks. I Better Finish Up Now, Because It’s 2:00 AM And I’m On A Train And The Other Passengers Aren’t Happy That I Have The Light On. 

Chapter 1: Indy to Chicago

Corde burst out laughing. She swiftly muffled her snickers until a glare from Aeryn renewed her mirth. “Aeryn, sweetie, are you okay?” She tried to ask without giggling and failed miserably.

“No,” Aeryn replied shortly as she put her head back between her knees.

Corde bit her lip. “The way you pilot your Prowler, I’d have never thought you to get carsick. Train sick.”

Aeryn tried to glare again, but it came out as a rather pitiful attempt. “My Prowler does not… JERK as this train does. Neither is there a loudly snoring octogenarian,” she moaned.

Corde examined the sleeping lady in question. “I don’t think she’s that old,” she mused. “Probably only a septuagenarian.”

“Then there’s Mr. Coughy over there,” Aeryn continued enumerating her woes.

Crichton’s head popped up from several rows in front of them. “Coffee?” he asked brightly.

“No, you insufferable dolt,” Aeryn said with utter distain. “Not COFFEE. Coughy. He’s coughing.”

Crichton shrugged. “They sound the same.”

Aeryn looked at him incredulously. “This is TEXT! They’re spelled completely differently!”

Crichton said, “Whatever,” and went back to his coloring books. Aeryn moaned and put her head back between her knees. Corde rolled her eyes.

D’Argo wandered by. “How’d you get here?” Corde asked, surprised.

The luxan drew himself up with dignity. “I’m going to visit the aquarium in Chicago,” he said gruffly. “You’re on a train, it’s a free ride, and I wanna see the pretty fishies.”

Corde considered for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Sure. Cool. I’ll pick you up on the way back.” D’Argo grunted assent and resumed making his way unsteadily to the snack machines. 

Aeryn groaned with renewed vigor. “Corde, why are you so chipper? I thought you got motion sick too.”

“Like a fiend,” Corde confirmed cheerfully. “Wonderful stuff, Dramamine. Less drowsy formula. I could ride a horse. I could EAT a horse. And I’m bright-tailed, bushy-eyed, wide awa…” the rest of the sentence trailed off in a snore. Startled, Aeryn looked up to see Corde fast asleep, clutching Bongo and drooling. Aeryn snickered, her own nausea forgotten. Where had she put that camera? This would be blackmail material for MONTHS…

Chapter 2: The Dance

Aeryn looked around the glittery ballroom in dismay. “THIS is why you dragged us up here to Cheeseland?”

Corde grinned, eyes shining. “Yup. Isn’t it great?”

Zhaan and D’Argo waltzed by.

Aeryn sneered. “A bunch of kids hanging around in $200 outfits they’ll only wear once and acting like fools. How is this fun?”

Corde looked for her date, who had gone to get her a drink. “Because it is. And isn’t Mike just the greatest guy? I’m so glad Deters got him to bring me. He even slow-dances! That’s so nice of him!”

“Foolish boy,” Aeryn muttered. “He’d get more use out of three hours of target practice than three hours of ‘dancing.’”

Corde poked her in the arm. “Shush. I’m having fun. And you haven’t said how you like my dress.” She pirouetted to show off the bright red formal gown.

Aeryn eyed her doubtfully. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s not s’posta be,” Corde told her, breathing shallowly. “I can hold my breath for three hours. It’s not a big deal.”

Zhaan and D’Argo tangoed by. Corde did a double take. “Hey, I thought he was going to the aquarium…”

Corde’s date came back and handed her a cup. “Thanks, Mike,” she said, taking a swig. “Hey, I want you to meet my friend Aeryn.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “But Corde, you don’t even live around here. How did you meet her? I don’t think she goes to this school.” He addressed Aeryn. “Do you go to Trempor? Or Indian Trails maybe?”

Aeryn drew herself up, affronted. (“What is it with you and ‘drawing up’ all of a sudden?” Chia asked. “You have the oddest phrases.” “You wanna write? Be my guest!” said Corde.) “Officer Aeryn Sun, Icarian Company, Pleisar Regiment.” 

D’Argo spun Zhaan in a graceful circle.

Mike blinked. “Whoa.” He turned to Corde. “Your friends are weird.” Corde grinned and nodded. “Let’s dance.”

“Yay!” said Corde. 

They had boogied their way through “Soul Man,” “I’m a Believer,” “Time Warp,” “Jump, Jive ‘n’ Wail,” three measures of Britney Spears before the DJ turned it off, “Mickey,” “(She’s a) Brick House,” and “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” before the inevitable Ricky Martin song came on. Corde and the other girls cheered and shook it for all they were worth, but Mike stopped dancing. “I don’t HAVE a bon-bon,” he said plaintively. Corde giggled.

D’Argo and Zhaan did an elaborate spin-and-dip move.

There was a loud crash from the front of the room, and the music stopped just before Ricky went “around the world in a day.” Everyone groaned and looked up to see Aeryn standing over the remains of a stereo, readying her pulse rifle for another shot. She looked up. “ ‘Genie in a Bottle’ was up next,” she explained.

Chapter 4: Home Again

“Will you people please SHUT UP?” Corde snapped. She was uncomfortably trying to arrange herself on the narrow train seats so she could sleep. Aeryn was once again moaning about train sickness, and D’Argo and Zhaan were sniping at each other over who had caused more bruises on the other’s feet. Corde turned on the Amtrak mini-light above her seat and looked at the miserable crew. Someone was missing. “Um, was anyone watching to make sure Crichton didn’t get off at that last stop? The shippers will be very upset with me if we left him in Dyer.”

Aeryn stopped moaning long enough to say, “He’s on the lower level with the snack machines.”

D’Argo looked toward Corde with horror. “You didn’t give him any MONEY, did you? He’ll drink a bunch of Pepsi and be up all night!”

“Relax, tentacle boy, he’s just pushing the buttons,” Zhaan told him. “But I’m going to be up all night with aching feet! Could you have stepped on my more if you’d TRIED?!”

“You’re no lightweight yourself, Blue!” D’Argo snapped back. “And you just HAD to wear the spike heels…”

Corde pointed out the window. “Look! Snow!” she yelled, then turned off the light and went to sleep.

Chapter 3: Oops, I Forgot Chapter 3

Chapter 5: Commentary

“I’m gonna hurl,” said Aeryn, dashing to the bathroom.

“I hope that’s motion sickness and not her literary opinion,” said Corde.

“Both,” Aeryn yelled from her kneeling position over the toilet.

“My feet hurt,” growled D’Argo.

“Mine too,” said Zhaan.

“Wanna push the button,” grumped Crichton.

Corde rolled her eyes. “Look! Snow!”

THE END


	17. In Which Several Bits Are Stuck Together, A Deal Is Made And Broken, And A Fic Is Killed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velorek: Corde, you are special, you can be so much more.  
> Corde: Ah, we'd all like to think so, wouldn't we?
> 
> So I was working on a story, and it was really bad, and I had writer’s block, so I opened a new document and wrote what is now chapter 1 of this story. A few days later, I still couldn’t work on the other story, so I opened another document and wrote what was to become chapter 2. Then I sent the story to be tentatively beta’ed, got some excellent advice, and promptly killed it. Yesterday I told Anthony to draw something and I’d write for him, but he didn’t tell me what to write, so I slapped the first two chapters together and filled out the rest. This is what happens when Bongo gets bored and high on too much generic orange soda. Sad, isn’t it?

In Which Several Bits Are Stuck Together, A Deal Is Made And Broken, And A Fic Is Killed, Although No One Cares Because It Was A Really Bad Fic. No, I Mean REALLY Bad. I’m Talking Bad, Here, It Was So Bad That The Grammar Checker Refused To Check It, And The Spell Checker Just Laughed At It. It Was A Seriously Bad Fic.

Chapter 1

Aeryn stalked into the cargo bay. “What’s all this then?” she barked.

“Well see, it’s like this,” Corde explained. “I’m allowed to enter two things into the ScaperCon fic contest, and the other one,” she pointed at the other document on the screen, the cursor blinking and laughing at her, “isn’t going all that well.”

“I’ll say,” said Aeryn, reading what Corde had written. “You’ve spent more time on this than any three Cordefics, and it’s not even three pages long yet!”

“I KNOW,” Corde moaned piteously. “I’ve got writer’s block.”

“Likely story,” Aeryn snorted. “Fix it.”

Corde heaved a sigh. “I’ll try.”

Chapter 2 

Aeryn purposefully strode into the cargo bay. “What am I doing here?” She asked.

“Good question,” Corde said. “Someone once said that the best cure for writer’s block is to give yourself permission to write badly. Since writing badly is what I do best, I thought I’d give it a go.”

“Well, if you’re TRYING to write badly, you’re doing pretty well at it. That was horrible grammar.” Aeryn criticized.

Corde gave an exaggerated sigh. “I KNOW, that’s the POINT. If I cared at all about this, I’d have fixed it, but I DON’T, so it’s STAYING that way.”

Aeryn smacked her. “Writer’s block is no excuse for bad grammar. Fix it.”

Corde grumbled and went back over the paragraph with the grammar checker. “Happy now?”

“Not really,” Aeryn said, checking the aforementioned paragraph. “You still haven’t gotten through the block thingy.”

Corde stared at her. “Did you just say ‘block thingy’?”

Aeryn stared back. “Yes. I did. And it’s your fault. As always. Try again.”

Chapter 3

“So let me see if I’ve got this,” Aeryn said with the air of one who is determined to be correct for once and for all. “They’re basically the same people, with the same jobs, but they have entirely different names.”

“Exactly!” said Gabrielle with a smile of great triumph. 

Xena seemed to be in awe of Aeryn’s accent. “They let you keep it?” she asked wonderingly. Aeryn glared at her, not pleased to be distracted from her original topic.

“That seems ratha’ odd,” she told Gabrielle. “You humans are strange.”

Gabrielle sighed and absently smacked Xena, who was becoming fixated on Aeryn’s voice. “That we are,” she agreed.

Aeryn boggled. “So how many of them are there?”

“Twelve, more or less.” Gabrielle took on her storytelling voice. “First is Zeus, the great king of the gods, who slew his father the titan Cronos, and who himself fathered many great children…”

“Jupita’, right,” Aeryn interrupted. Xena grinned at the dropped “r.” 

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, but that’s the Roman name. We’re Greek.”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva’,” Aeryn said with a dismissive hand gesture. Xena grinned again. “It’s all the same to me. How about the rest of them?”

Gabrielle made a rude comment under her breath about people who didn’t appreciate good storytelling when they heard it, and then began to recite, “In no particular order, the rest of the Olympian gods are Hera/Juno, Athena/Minerva, Ares/Mars, Artemis/Diana, Hephestus/Vulcan, Aphrodite/Venus, Hermes/Mercury, Hestia/Vesta, Dionysus/Bacchus, and Demeter/Ceres.”

Xena blinked. “She can’t hear the slashes between names!”

Gabrielle smacked her again. “No, but she can read it. This is in text, remember?”

Xena looked sheepish. “Oh yeah.”

Aeryn had been furiously counting on her fingers. She looked up triumphantly. “That’s only eleven!” she announced.

Gabrielle’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Oh yes. Apollo.”

Aeryn nodded, then frowned. “Is that Greek or Roman?”

“Both!” said Xena, proud that she knew that bit of trivia.

Gabrielle patted her on the head. “Good warrior,” she said. “You get a cookie.” Xena grinned.

Chapter 4

“Corde, are you even going to attempt to bring this back on-topic?” Aeryn complained.

“Not a chance,” Corde sang cheerfully. “It’s my half of a deal I made with Anthony, and he didn’t say that it had to be OnT, so I’m making it up as I go along.”

“Has Anthony kept up his part of the bargain?” Crichton asked, wandering in at just that moment with no shirt on. 

“Nope,” said Corde. “And I don’t think he’s going to, which will put me one-up over him. Ha!”

Velorek strode in, also shirtless. “Corde… you are special… you can be so much more…”

Corde grinned. “Ah, we’d all like to think so, wouldn’t we? But I doubt it, honey buns. I’ve resigned myself to a life of Cordefic.”

Aeryn, Crichton, Velorek, Xena, Gabrielle, and Bongo all shuddered in fear. “No… anything but that…” Bongo whispered, horrified.

Chapter 5

“And what’s more,” Corde continued, “I KILLED that other fic! That’s right! I killed it! And I’m not ashamed! It needed killing!”

“You got THAT right,” mumbled Xeddicus.

“Heck, girl, I dunno… it needs to go somewhere…” Night-Owl advised vaguely.

Corde smiled at Night-Owl. “Thanks, hon, but I already killed it. No worries.”

Night-Owl breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good. Now about that $650…”

“I’ll get it to you by the end of the week,” Corde promised.

THE END


	18. Portions of This Story Blatantly Snurched… I Mean Procured… From Sojushisan And Her Story, “The Seventh Forbidden Cargo.” Sorry, Soj, But You Get What You Pay For, And I’m Working For Free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soj wanted Pilot!Angst, Passion’s Fool wanted a flashlight, three marbles, a lizard and a hole in a pocket, Bug and Smurf wanted more Cordefic, Bongo wanted me to stop beating him up for the stupid sonnet-that-wasn’t, and I just wanted something to do. Three cheers to Shaye for winning the “First To Respond Gets A Walk-on In A Cordefic” contest, to Dani for being runner-up, and to Rayne for just generally bugging me the whole time. Thanks, guys. With friends like you, who needs… well, friends?

Chapter 1

“Oh, woe is me!” Pilot groaned, leaning over his console dramatically.

Aeryn staggered in. (“‘Staggered’?” asked Chi. “Better than ‘wandered’ again, innit?” Corde said. “Guess so,” agreed Chi. “G’head, let her stagger.”) “Pilot, what are you doing?” Aeryn asked.

Pilot ignored her. “Woe, woe is meeee!” he moaned, leaning farther over and assuming a pathetic pose.

Crichton chose that moment to saunter in, shirtless. Aeryn did a double take. “Go put some clothes on!” she snapped at him. 

Taken aback by the abrupt comment, Crichton sauntered away again, presumably to find a shirt. There was a collective groan from off screen. “Thanks a lot, Aeryn!” one voice shouted.

“Put a sock in it, Shaye!” she shouted back.

Pilot took the opportunity to pull out a large handkerchief (clawkerchief?) and blow his… um… he doesn’t really have a nose… uh… okay, let’s start this paragraph over.

Pilot took the opportunity to pull out a large kleenex… oh wait, that’s a name brand, it should be “tissue,” shouldn’t it? And they don’t really come in different sizes… you don’t get a box of “large” tissues as opposed to a box of “small” tissues… that would be stupid. Why would anyone buy “small” sized tissues? Okay, this just isn’t working. 

Chapter 2

Rayne wandered in. JUST KIDDING, CHI!

Chapter 3

Rayne was standing in Pilot’s den, watching amusedly as he moaned and groaned angstily. Is that even a word? Spellchecker doesn’t like it. This just isn’t working, is it?

Chapter 4

“Nice little existential crisis you got there, Corde,” said Sojushisan.

“Thanks!” said Corde.

Tinka chose that moment to drive by in her red 2000 Mercury Cougar with the windows rolled down and Melissa Etheridge blaring from the speakers. Tinka sang along. “Mama I’m strange…” she belted out.

“WE KNOW!” Corde shouted after her. Aileen grinned.

Chapter 5

Back to the Pilot-angst! Really!

“Oh, woe is me!” Pilot groaned, leaning over his console dramatically.

Aeryn walked in. “Pilot, what are you doing?” Aeryn asked.

Pilot ignored her. “Woe, woe is meeee!” he moaned, leaning farther over and assuming a pathetic pose. “I am filled with such angst,” he added, allowing two very large tears to fall down his cheeks and splash on his console.

Aeryn leaned over and took his claw. “This is me, Pilot. Aeryn. We are closer than any two on this ship. I still carry remnants of your DNA inside of me.”

Pilot shook her off and began singing. “I DUNNO WHYY THERE'S NO LEVIATHAN IN THE SKY!” he wailed. “STORMYYYY WEATHERRRR!!!”

Corde shuddered. “Oh no…”

Chapter 6

D’Argo stuck his hand in his pocket. “Oh no!” he exclaimed. “There’s a hole in my pocket!” He pulled out three marbles and a flashlight. “I had a lizard in there too…”

Chapter 7

HA!

Chapter 8

“Corde’s been reading Resnick again,” Zhaan muttered, sharpening her wit. (Don’t smirk. You can do a lot of damage with a sharp wit. It’s almost as good as a spork.)

“Or her own early work,” Darth Maul chimed in. Zhaan did a double take.

“Where did you come from?” she demanded.

He grinned, showing blackened teeth. Rygel gagged. “Corde bought a new watch with me on it,” he told her.

“See?” Corde said proudly, trying to hold her wrist up to show it off. The watch was made of die-cast metal, and it was so heavy she could barely lift her arm. 

Corde’s brother TJ looked at the Maul-shaped chunk of metal on her wrist and laughed. “That’s the ugliest, most useless piece of crap I’ve ever seen!” he sneered. Corde looked pointedly at TJ’s car, which was sitting on cement blocks in the driveway. TJ gave her a hurt look and slunk away, apparently to get his car a wheel or two. Corde snickered and admired her watch.

Chapter 9

“Pilot!” Corde shouts, trying in vain to get his attention. Pilot is still singing his song, wailing louder on every chorus. Corde hadn’t known that the words “stormy weather” could be stretched out over so many syllables. “PILOT!” she finally screams, grabbing all four of his claws and stuffing them into his own mouth. “HUSH UP!” she commands. 

Ignoring the glares of the rest of FaDoP, Corde motions Dani over to help her, and tells her to bring the duct tape. Once Corde and Dani have Pilot securely taped up, but before StarPaw or Soj can attack them for injuring him, Corde explains her seemingly nefarious actions. “I told him I wanted angst,” she says, “but I think he took it a little too far.”

The assembled FaDoPi consider that, and agree. Soj even considers digging out her floss, but thinks better of it, considering the quasi-damage already being done to Pilot. 

Corde and Dani proudly survey their taped Pilot. They give each other triumphant high-fives, then turn and run out of Pilot’s den as fast as they can.

“Hey…” says Moya’s Pilot, as though just realizing something. “Who’s going to take the tape OFF of him?”

The assembled FaDoP exchange a few dozen glances, then turn and follow Corde and Dani.

Chapter 10

“WHAT THE FRELL WAS THAT?!?” Aeryn screamed. “By Monjo, Corde, you’d better have a DARN good reason for suddenly switching to present tense in the middle of the story! Have I taught you NOTHING?!?”

Corde held a plate of snickerdoodles at arm’s length in an attempt to pacify the enraged ex-Peacekeeper. “Yes, I have a good reason!” she said. “FaDoP scandals are written in present tense! Chapter 10 was written in the form of a scandal! It’s okay!”

“Oh, okay then,” said Aeryn, taking a cookie. “Boy, poor Oto is going to get quite a surprise when she comes back from China.”

Corde snickered.

THE END


	19. The Monkey’s Name Is BONGO, Not Scapermonkey, Not Monjo Jojo, Not Hey-You-Get-Offa-My-Cloud, As Amusing As Those Names May Be, And I Missed Him Very Very Much. And Don’t Worry, He’ll Be Drunk Again Soon, I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all know the story. Girl has monkey for a muse, girl hates monkey, girl’s monkey runs away, girl is distraught until monkey returns, girl promptly goes back to hating monkey. It’s a vicious cycle. Bongo came back, finally, and I wrote this. I’m sorry. I had to. It hit me at work and I was writing notes in purple pen on my wrist... they came out something like “ postal delusional drunk Cubs Stardust” and when you look at it like that, it’s just scary. Mucho thanks to Elflore, who beta’d (gasp! Someone actually beta’d a Cordefic!) and gave me the ending. You the man, Elflore. And a teeny shout out to ChianaWade. She knows which bits she gave me. Natalie, thank you for taking such good care of my monkey, and taking time to punch air holes in his box. And I ask you, WHAT fashion sense? I think the big sticks are Becca's... although they could also be Sarah's or Cristin's. I just don't remember anymore. 
> 
> Chapter 3 is for anyone who ever wrote a songfic. This is my idea of a songfic. I’m so glad y’all don’t write like me. Lyrics are Hogie Carmichael's, I think. Don't sue me.

Chapter 1: The Monkey Returns

Bongo drunkenly stumbled into Corde’s room, wearing a Chicago Cubs hat and holding a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Corde was curled into a ball, rocking back and forth muttering, “Monkey, I want my monkey, where’s my monkey, who’s got my monkey, I want the damn monkey…” in a despondent monotone. There were tear streaks down her face and she was wearing a white sweater with very long sleeves. 

“Loooshy, you got shome ‘shplainin’ to do…” Bongo yelled cheerfully just before he flung himself into Corde’s computer chair and passed out. 

Chapter 2: Hunting and Gathering

Several days later, when Bongo had finally slept it off, he woke up to find Corde still rocking and muttering. He blinked, looked at her again, and left her there. He needed something to eat. A diet of screwdrivers and Jack was fun, but any nutritionist would tell him that it didn’t exactly meet Food Pyramid requirements. Silly nutritionists. 

Bongo made his unsteady way down the stairs into the kitchen. (It wasn’t that he was still drunk; for once in his short life, he was completely sober. It’s just that normal-sized people staircases aren’t made to be navigable by short little monkey legs.) At the risk of being accused of monkeying around, he finally slid down the banister. That’s what banisters are for, isn’t it?

Being sober for the first time in his life, Bongo was slightly baffled by the veritable Sears Hardware of gizmos in the kitchen. He had never actually prepared food for himself, so he was at a loss. He looked in the refrigerator, stared at the empty breadbox, glanced at the freezer and decided to call for pizza. Maybe the scent of breadsticks would awaken Corde from her monkey-deprived stupor. If that didn’t work, Bongo could always steal her wallet and move to Bali. Whichever.

The starved simian called for pizza, after snurching a twenty out of Corde’s wallet, and settled down on the couch to wait. He grabbed the TV remote and flipped channels idly for a time, not at all interested in Tom Green’s cancer or E! True Hollywood Story. A repeat of Will and Grace caught his eye for a moment, but it was the one with Molly Shannon. He’d seen it.

Bongo noticed a tape in the VCR and pressed the PLAY button on the remote. A recent episode of Farscape flickered on the screen, just as John and Aeryn were running around Moya trying to catch the strange puppy-thing. Bongo sat straight up in his chair and stared raptly at the screen. He chuckled. Gotta love the teamwork with those two. He began to grin evilly.

Upstairs, some deep, inner part of Corde stopped whimpering to give a primal scream. The rest of her sunk deeper into the museless pit to which it had banished itself. Corde kept rocking and moaning.

Chapter 3: Gooooooooood Morning!

Bongo finished the pizza as he finished watching the show. He put one last breadstick in a plastic baggie to taunt Corde’s brother, who hated when people left only one breadstick. The diabolical monkey went back into the kitchen and filled a glass with ice and cold water. He then made the arduous trek back upstairs to Corde’s room. All the ice had melted by the time he got up there, but he didn’t want to waste time going back for more. Tepid water would work just as well. He went to Corde’s stereo system and inserted a special CD. He donned earmuffs and cranked the volume. 75 decibels should do it. 

“AND NOW THE PURPLE DUSK OF TWILIGHT TIME…” the stereo crooned loudly. (Is it actually possible to croon loudly?) Bongo calmly poured most of the water on Corde’s head. “HIGH UP IN THE SKY THE LITTLE STARS CLIMB, ALWAYS REMINDING ME THAT WE'RE APART…” the voice boomed. Corde snapped out of her psychotic episode instantly. Bongo grinned.

“Wet Willie!” he shouted over the most annoying sound in the world, Willie Nelson singing “Stardust.” Corde screamed and wished she could return to that museless pit that had held her captive. 

“SOMETIMES I WANDER WHILE I SPEND THE LONELY NIGHTS… DREAMING OF A SONG…” Willie’s voice boomed. Three streets away, a neighbor called 911 and reported a man being tortured to death. Bongo joined in on the song’s last verse as Corde’s ears began to bleed. “Though I dream in vain, in my heart it always will remain… my stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain.” 

The stereo clicked off. Corde whimpered, “…blessed silence…” and promptly passed out.

Chapter 4: Intelligent Conversation

Bongo picked up a Very Large Stick (TM Becca) that just happened to be lying around (gee THANKS, Becca) and whacked Corde upside the head with it. “We’ll have none of that,” the monkey told her. 

Corde groaned and held her head. “Couldn’t you just shoot me? What did I do to deserve Willie Nelson?”

“You LEFT ME in St. Louis, for starters,” Bongo reminded her, brandishing the stick. Corde winced.

“Oh yeah, that,” she said sheepishly. Then she did a double take. “Hey wait… NO I didn’t! You ran away from me, remember? You WANTED to stay behind! Anyway, how’d you get back?”

“I have friends in high places,” Bongo said loftily. (High places, loftily. It’s a pun. Get it? GET IT?) “Lots. More than I ever imagined. I got hugged and lei’d by more people in one weekend than you have in your entire life. I’m popular!”

“You’re also delusional,” Corde said under her breath. Bongo ignored her.

“Oh, the places I’ve been, the people I’ve met! I saw David Kemper and Richard Manning on a webcast, not to mention Virginia Hey. Beat THAT!” Bongo buffed his little monkey fingernails on his chest fur.

“I saw Kent, Wayne, Lani, Brian, Claudia, Ben, Anthony and Gigi,” Corde responded. “Any more and I would have keeled over from too much excitement. And quit doing that. Monkeys don’t have fingernails.”

Bongo looked at his furry little paws. “Hm. Whaddya know, you’re right. Monkeys DON’T have fingernails.”

Chapter 5: The Curse of Popularity

Bongo went over to Corde’s poor, abused computer that had been sitting unused for nearly a week. Six days, to be exact. The same amount of time that Bongo had been gone. Funny coincidence, that. The computer coughed and sputtered as Bongo turned it on, so he added a little motor oil. (KIDDING! Everyone knows that you don’t oil computers. You use antifreeze.) The computer smirked and refused to boot up. Bongo frowned and kicked the computer. It shuddered, growled, and turned on. “Percussive maintenance,” Bongo smirked. “Works every time.”

Bongo signed on to Corde’s Yahoo account and went through her mail. “Delete, delete… hey Corde, Do You Want To Earn $5000 A Day From Home? I didn’t think so. Read later, delete, read later, pretend to read and fake an answer, delete… ooh, I’ll send this one to MY account… there! All you have to do is read Shipper mail and you’re caught up for the week. You can do that later. Now come here and open a Word document. I have a FIC for you!”

Corde, who had fallen asleep during Bongo’s click’n’delete spree, came blearily to attention. “Do what? Fic? YOU? You’re giving me FIC? Who are you and what have you done with my monkey?!”

Bongo rolled his eyes. “I am your muse, am I not? Muses help with fic, don’t they? QED, I’m supposed to give you fic. Now c’mere and write it.”

“You haven’t given me fic since… since… golly, I can’t remember the last time you gave me fic! You don’t help me write. You sit around and drink like a drunkymonkey. You’re a terrible muse and I LIKE it that way. Why are you doing this to me?” Corde pulled the covers back over her head and pretended to fall into a coma.

“You will write what this monkey tells you to write, and you will LIKE it,” came Aeryn’s voice. Corde peeked out from under the covers to see the barrel of a pulse rifle pointed at her head. Bongo was smirking.

“Friends in high places, Corderino. Get up and get writing.”

Corde groaned and got out of bed. “Shoot me now,” she groaned. “I missed you, monkey, but not this much.” Aeryn gave Corde a menacing glare and Corde turned to her computer screen. “Okay, Bongo, what’s the scoop? What’s this wonderful story you want me to write? Please tell me, I’m just dying to know.” 

“Once more without the sarcasm, please,” Bongo called. Corde looked up to see him hanging upside-down from the ceiling, reading the latest TV Zone. “This one has an interview with Claudia Black!” he told her. “If you want to read it, I suggest you start writing.”

“Writing WHAT?” Corde shouted. Aeryn scowled and brandished the pulse rifle. Corde rolled her eyes. “And where’d you pick up ChickWithGun over there?”

“Garage sale,” Bongo said idly, leafing through the magazine. “Impressive, isn’t she?”

Corde snorted derisively. “She doesn’t even look like the real Aeryn.” Aeryn scowled some more and smoothed her black leather vest.

“Sure she does,” Bongo said, examining her. “How’d you know it wasn’t her?”

“For one thing, the real Aeryn has never pulled a gun on me,” Corde told him. “She’d rather smack me upside the head.”

“Good point,” Bongo conceded. “She was a member of the Claud Squad. Must be why she was so cheap.” Aeryn sniffed haughtily and tightened her grip on her pulse rifle.

The real Aeryn showed up just at that moment. She unceremoniously smacked Corde upside the head. “What are you doing?” 

Corde held her head. “Quit HITTING me!” she yelled. “I wasn’t doing ANYTHING!”

Aeryn crossed her arms smugly. “Exactly. You weren’t doing anything. What are you SUPPOSED to be doing?”

Corde thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Cleaning my room?”

Aeryn looked around and raised an eyebrow. “Now that you mention it, your room is pretty messy… but that’s not what I was talking about. The monkey told you to WRITE. Why aren’t you writing?”

Corde put her face in her hands. “Because he hasn’t told me what to write,” she enunciated carefully.

Aeryn glared at the monkey. “Is that true?”

Bongo hid behind the TV Zone magazine. “Uh… yes?”

Aeryn smacked Bongo upside the head.

THE END


	20. In Which Nothing Really Happens And Only Small Bits Of It Make Sense. Also titled: Cordefic Number Twenty, Which Is A Rather Significant Achievement If You Think About It, Which You Probably Don’t.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, does anyone remember the Cordefic that Lin wrote? It was really really good, even if it was a long long long time ago. I started writing an awards ceremony for her a long long time ago, just after she had written it, but the scene was lost for a long long time. I just found it again, so y’all get to read it in this one. Chapter 2, I think. Aside from that, this one is just a vain attempt to keep my mind off college.

Chapter 1

“Corde,” said Tinka, “I just want you to know that your last Cordefic was almost… well, it was kinda… uh, gee, it was nearly… dude, Corde, that thing was practically SANE!”

Corde’s jaw dropped. “It was WHAT?!?”

“Uh… sane-ish? Slightly less than insane? A full load of bricks? An entire deck of cards? A picnic plus several ants?”

Corde began to bawl.

Tinka attempted to soothe her. “Now, I’m not saying it was BAD at all. I mean, it was still FUNNY. It was just… not as insane as your normal stuff.”

Aeryn slapped Corde upside the head. “I wasn’t in it enough,” she said.

Tinka nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Chapter 2

A roar of cheering can be heard in the distance. 

“Don’t use the passive voice,” said Aeryn, as she smacked Corde upside the head.

“Ow,” said Corde.

Chapter 2

A crowd of voices chants, “Lin! Lin! Lin!”

“And don’t use present tense, you crouton!” Aeryn yelled, smacking Corde yet again.

“Ow,” said Corde.

Chapter 2

Corde dragged a blushing Lin to a stage which had been placed in her fic for just such a purpose. The shippers chanted, “Lin! Lin! Lin!” Corde handed her a bouquet of pretty flowers and a glittery tiara. She then snagged an Einstein’s Bros. Bagel bag and read off the speech that had been written on it in crayon.

“Lin,” she said proudly, “you have done very well. Your Cordefic honors all Cordefic with its superfluous chapters, gratuitous use of false endings, and most of all, its pure unadulterated silliness. You are being honored with not only my prestigious Bagel of Approval, but also my not-as-well-known-but-no-less-prestigious, perhaps more so because of its rarity, considering I only just came up with it, in fact it was created just for Lin and…”

Several voices shouted as one, “GET ON WITH IT!”

“Right! Sorry,” Corde said. “Anyway… Lin gets the Crosant of Achievement!”

Everyone cheered.

Aeryn smacked Corde upside the head. “You spelled ‘croissant’ wrong.”

Chapter 3

It was a normal day on Moya. The sun was shining, birds were singing…

Oh wait, no.

Chapter 3

It was a normal day on Moya. There was no sun, and there were no birds. Well there was a Sun, namely one ex-PK Aeryn Sun, but that’s a rather overused pun, so I didn’t think I’d use it, but then it just sort of happened…

“GET ON WITH IT!”

Right! Sorry.

Chapter 3

It was a normal day on Moya. Aeryn and Crichton were tinkering with their respective ships in the cargo bay, trying not to act like they were flirting with each other. Zhaan was naked. D’Argo and Chi were… well, you know. Rygel was eating. Just a typical day.

“You’ve used that one before,” Aeryn said, smacking Corde per usual.

“Do what?” Corde asked, rubbing the ever-growing lump on the back of her head.

“You’ve used that paragraph. Except for the D’Argo and Chiana part. It’s in the very second Cordefic you ever wrote.”

“DAMN,” Corde said.

Chapter 3

Crichton and Aeryn were alone. 

“WOO HOO!” the shippers shouted..

“SHUT UP!” Corde shouted. “You don’t even know what they’re going to do!”

“We can always hope!” one shipper yelled back.

Chapter 3

Aeryn turned to Crichton and said, “I would never say that!”

Crichton was confused. “What?”

“I was talking to Corde,” Aeryn explained.

Corde sighed. “Stick to the script, Aeryn.”

Aeryn rolled her eyes.

Chapter 3

Aeryn turned to Crichton and said, “You wanna do that thing?”

Crichton was still confused. “What?” 

Corde stalked over to Crichton, smacked him upside the head, and yelled, “STICK TO THE FRELLING SCRIPT!”

“Ow,” said Crichton.

Chapter… oh, to hell with it.

THE END

Chapter 4

“MOO!” Corde shouted. Everyone stared at her.

THE END

To Tinka: Was that insane enough for you?


	21. Untitled/Unfinished

Chapter 1

“My foot hurts,” Corde whined.

“Pay attention!” Aeryn hissed. “This isn’t GED class; you’re in college now!”

“It’s Latin,” Corde explained. “I tested out of it. This is easy stuff.”

“You’re getting graded. Pay attention,” Aeryn repeated as she began to walk away. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Corde called after her.

“Labor vocat,” Aeryn told her. “Crichton is doing something well-meaning but totally irrational and nonsensical in the maintenance bay. I have to go kick his ass.”

“You’re just trying to get away from me,” Corde whined obnoxiously (is there any other way to whine?).

Aeryn looked pointedly at Corde. “Do you blame me?”

Corde looked at her foot. “Not really.” 

Aeryn left. Corde picked up her copy of The Epic of Gilgamesh, read three pages, and fell asleep.

Chapter 2

“Why are there pictures of me on your binders, Corde?”Aeryn asked.

Corde turned the binders face down. “No reason,” she mumbled.

Aeryn turned them back over and examined the photo collages of herself. “I sort of understand the astronomy binder… I live in space, after all… but what’s up with the Latin binder?”

Corde turned bright red and slunk farther down in her seat. “Xena and Gabrielle were busy,” she muttered.

“No we’re not,” Xena said. Gabrielle smiled.

Corde didn’t look up. “Uh… hi guys.” 

“Hey Corde,” Xena said. “Did you cut your hair?”

“No, I cut them all, Corde said, still not looking at the warrior.

Corde’s Latin and archeology professor chose that moment to saunter into the room. Sauntering is better than wandering, isn’t it? He looked at Xena and Gabrielle. “What is this, the Greek Mafia?” he wondered aloud before sauntering away.

Corde finally took a peek at Xe and Gabs. They were dressed in pinstriped gangster suits, complete with Fedoras and tommyguns. Corde looked away quickly. “I knew better than to look at you,” she groaned.

Xena looked down at her outfit. “What?”

Corde read three verses from the Tao Te Ching and fell asleep.

Chapter 3 

“My foot hurts,” Corde whined.

Aeryn rolled her eyes. “I’m not even going to bother to tell you to pay attention.”

“It’s LATIN,” Corde said. “Who the hell cares? I learned this stuff three years ago.”

“Well la dee dah,” Aeryn said.

Corde put her foot up on a chair and looked at it. “Ow,” she said.

Aeryn threw a book at her. “We GET it, your ANKLE hurts, OKAY! Sheesh, get over it already!”

Corde looked at the book Aeryn had thrown. “Ooh. The Life and Times of Frederick the Pansyass,” she read. “He must have been French.”

Aeryn looked away. “That’s a Sebacean book, actually…” she muttered.

Corde snerked. She opened the book, read three pages, and fell asleep.

Chapter 4

“Oh sailor!” Aeryn yelled.

Everyone stared at her. Crichton was the only one with the cojones to smirk. Aeryn punched him out. Corde tried to walk up some stairs, fell over, hurt her ankle, screamed, and fell asleep.

Chapter 5

“And so the rest of the world is just lucky that I don’t rape and pillage on the weekends,” Dr. Connolley said. “Now, on the reasonable assumption that God isn’t schitzophrenic…”

Chapter 6

“Oh sailor!” Aeryn called.

The rest of the Latin class responded with, “Vocative!” Everyone else stared at her. Crichton was the only one with the cojones to smirk. Aeryn punched him out. Corde tried to walk up some stairs, fell, hurt her ankle, screamed and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter 7

“What’s a two word, seven letter phrase for, ‘go away’?” Corde asked, glaring at the crossword. 

“Piss off,” Aeryn said.

“Hey, that fits!” Corde exclaimed gleefully. She wrote it in the boxes, filled in the answers for 3 Down and 17 Across and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter 8

“I could pay attention,” Corde said, forstalling Aeryn’s command, “but why?”

 

Chapter 7

Corde yawned. “I’m back! And guess what. I’m still not paying attention!”

Aeryn wasn’t listening. “Porta, portae… shut up, Corde, I’m trying to learn.”

Corde did a little dance, then climbed into the top bunk and fell out.

Chapter 8

Corde poked herself in the eye in a vain attempt to stay awake. Aeryn prodded the sleepy student with the butte of her pulse rifle. “Wake up, stupid,” she hissed.

“I’m trying,” Corde hissed back, “but my eyes keep closing. This class is soooo boring.”

“At least he didn’t turn the light off this time,” Chiana yawned, staring at the increasingly mind-numbing slides that Dr. Braun was excitedly showing the class. One student had very carefully slit her wrists with a Bic pen. Another had strangled himself on his bookbag straps. The rest had either died of boredom, killed themselves, or fallen into deep comas.

“What?” Chi asked, waking up slightly. “How can you fall into a punctuation mark?”

Aeryn smacked her upside the head. “Coma, not comma, you dumb tralk.” 

“Hey,” Chi screamed, rubbing her head. “What’d you do that for?”

Aeryn shrugged. “I had to hit someone, and for once Corde isn’t being stupid.”

Chi nodded understandingly. Corde smirked at her, then looked upset. “Whaddya mean ‘for once’?”

Chapter 9

 

Chapter 6

Crichton was lying on his stomach in the cargo bay, scribbling busily with his IASA Space Pen with Pressureized Ink Cartrages for Writing in Low or No Gravity, humming merrily to himself. Aeryn, who had been stomping around Moya angrily (she was peeved that she’d been left dead over the season break), stomped into the cargo bay and nearly tripped over Crichton. Giving a grunt worthy of an annoyed Luxan, she griped, “What the frell do you think you’re doing?”

Zhaan scurried in to shake Aeryn’s hand and give her a trophy for winning the Obligatory Farscape Word of the Fic award.

“Quadratic equations,” Crichton replied, dividing the numerator by the lowest common denominator of each monomial and multiplying by the square root. “An anonymous fan complained to Corde that she writes me too stupid, so I’m doing smart things. See?”

“Anonymous fanmail? Wow,” Aeryn mused. “I didn’t know Corde got ANY fanmail, much less anonymous fanmale.”

“Heh,” Corde heh’ed. “Fanmale. Go go gadget Freudian slip!”

“Shut up,” Aeryn growled, sounding once again rather like an irritated Luxan. “So someone complained and you changed your characterization to suit the nameless, faceless masses?”

“If by ‘masses’ you mean ‘three people who have ever been bored enough to read my stuff without me sending it directly to their inboxes,’ then yes. I thought I’d try my hand at writing an intelligent Crichton,” Corde said absently, watching his biceps flex as he squared the coefficient and added the quotient of the difference between x and y. 

“Nice try,” Aeryn remarked as she watched him add 2.8 and –17 to get 42, which he then divided by 1,265 to get 3. 

Corde shrugged. “Said I’d try, not that it’d work.” 

Crichton became fascinated with the properties of SpacePen ink and started doodling random patterns on Moya’s floor. Chiana and Jothee wandered past hand-in-hand, and Aeryn glared. “Watch out for D’Argo, you two. I don’t want to have to deal with a Luxan scorned until I’m officially alive again.” They simply smiled goofily and wandered off again.

“Look!” Crichton shouted up from the floor where he was now liberally covered with SpacePen ink. “Relativity!” He pointed to a spot on the floor where he had written “E = mc3”


	22. Untitled/Unfinished 2

Corde was at work.

Normally, these words wouldn’t foreshadow anything important or even noteworthy, but the thing of note about this sentence is that Corde works the graveyard shift at the megachain department store known as Hell. Also known as WalMart. Being that it was 3 in the morning, and being that Corde’s body had not yet settled into the rhythm of sleeping during the days, and being that she was sleep-deprived and crazed and bored and oh yeah PLAGUED BY FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, that first, oh-so-innocuous statement concerning Corde’s location became quite a bit more significant than usual.

This fic will now have a short intermission as Corde searches frantically for the story notes she wrote while at work. She has the sneaking suspicion that her mother threw them away while cleaning her room the other day. Corde is destroyed by her mother’s attempts to clean. So. Much.

Corde is no longer destroyed. She hath found the notes. The fic shall continue forthwith. (HEY! I heard that! No razzies!)

Corde was standing faithfully at her register, like any good cashier . She had one leg propped up on a box of plastic bags that cheerily proclaimed, “To Serve You More!” One didn’t even have to imagine the annoyingly AIM-like smiley-face that went along with such exuberance; it was printed on the bag along with the words. Corde was alternating between staring off into the distance with a fake smile pasted onto her face and watching Aeryn. For once, the violent PK wasn’t hitting her upside the head.

“And just what is wrong with the item?” Aeryn asked the customer with a baring of teeth that could be called a smile, if smiles were frightening and not at all a sign of good things to come.

“Um… it doesn’t fit?” the customer guessed, holding out a pair of jeans that had been bought on clearance the day before.

“Are you sure?” Aeryn leaned forward, her hands on the service desk, fingers twitching as though they’d rather be wrapped around a pulse pistol. Face white with terror, the customer could only make a slight meeping noise. Aeryn continued, “I think you’re wrong. I think the clothing fits just fine. I think you’re done here.” Clutching the jeans to her chest, the customer backed away quickly, finally making a run for the doors. “Have a nice day,” Aeryn called after her, beckoning to the next person in line. 

Strangely, the line had disappeared.


End file.
